


Scarecrow [Angel of Death]

by xdestroying



Series: Angel of Death [1]
Category: Arashi (Band)
Genre: Adult Themes, Alternate Universe, Anal Sex, Barebacking, Blood, Character Death, Explicit Sexual Content, Fantasy, Heavy Themes, Light Bondage, M/M, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay, Possessive Behaviour, Suspense, Violence, angel of death - Freeform, dark themes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-02
Updated: 2016-08-14
Packaged: 2018-07-11 18:57:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 78,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7066141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xdestroying/pseuds/xdestroying
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>To begin with, he had just been another job. Another soul. Another mission and another death. But with each day that passed, it became harder and harder for him to tear his gaze away. Each day, he grew more and more attached to the human whom he was merely supposed to keep an eye on from a distance. A very far distance.</p><p>[ Winner of <a href="http://arafanficaward.livejournal.com/">Arashi Fanfiction Awards 2016</a>; Best Sakumoto ]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**_-  Prologue -_**  
  
To begin with, he had just been another job. Another soul. Another mission and another death. But with each day that passed, it became harder and harder for him to tear his gaze away. Each day, he grew more and more attached to the human whom he was merely supposed to keep an eye on from a distance. A very far distance.  
The infatuation could not even be explained by the human being unique or special. He was not a king. Not a president, not a captain of a military legion. He was no person of importance, not a person of influence, and he never would be. Seemingly, only his looks were a trait of his which made him stand out of the crowd. That massive crowd.  
The human was stunning. With strong features and expressive brown eyes. He seemed perfectly assembled, all parts of his body coming together brilliantly, after a long, hard period of adolescence where nothing had seemed to fit. How he carried himself now, made it clear to everyone that he knew. He knew he was beautiful, knew how women, and men, threw long gazes after him.  
But aside from being handsome, the human was also charming and talented. An aspiring actor on his way to the top, soaring at an immense speed at the young age of 27.  
There was nothing Matsumoto Jun could not do.  
With a brighter future than most, he seemed to have his whole life laid out for him, full of glory and wealth and women.  
Only, he did not.  
It was all coming to an end far too soon, too sudden. His soul ripped violently away and stolen from his body.  
  
  
  
-  
  
  
  
_“I want to reconcile the violence in your heart_  
 _I want to recognize your beauty’s not just a mask_  
 _I want to exorcise the demons from your past_  
 _I want to satisfy the undisclosed desires in your heart.”_  
  
As the stealer of life, the thief of souls, the harbinger of darkness, it was no easy job being Death.  
The angel with black wings and empty eyes. The coming of the end. But Sakurai had been in the position long enough to understand the importance of the job. As gruesome as it might seem, it was a very crucial position: In his palm, he was holding the whole world in balance.  
Deciding who lived. And who died.  
It was not without reason that he was the one occupying this position. For hundreds of years, he had reaped lives without fail, without mistakes. And even his fellow angels had begun to fear his lack of emotions. But Death himself knew exactly what he was doing. If he ever were to question a death, if he were to hesitate, he would no longer be fit for the task. A single mistake would have terrible consequences. And Sakurai would not let such a thing happen. With powers like his, one had to either enjoy the sight of life leaving a human’s eyes, like watching their horrified expressions as death enveloped them, or one would have to be indifferent. Sakurai was the latter. He was a perfectionist, uptight and wise. And nothing could shake the ground he was walking.  
  
Many years later, he would wonder what had gone wrong. Maybe he had, after all, been too old for the job, or too young. Maybe he had finally lost his touch and allowed too much warmth to seep into his stone cold heart. Too many deaths had finally managed to cause a crack. Maybe he had had scars way too deep after all. Scars that a human finally managed to poke and pick open.  
Or maybe he had been too reckless to accept the position after all, - when he died at the age of 29 with a shining future ahead of himself, when he had thought he was going somewhere for real, when his family had had so much faith in him to bring honour back to the family. He had been the whole family’s future.  
And he died. Just like that.  
Instead of panicking and crying and hating and refusing the darkness, Sakurai Sho had embraced his fate, telling himself that maybe it would be better this way. And he had locked his emotions away. The previous Angel of Death had been quiet. And impressed. So Sakurai was then given the opportunity to make a name for himself after all as his first job came to be the lives of his own family, when they crumbled before his empty shell, with no hope left in their eyes. He had seen them one last time before their departure, and they had seen him. Only they had not recognized the creature. The creature with huge wings and blinding eyes, making them cover in fear before his threatening frame.  
And Sakurai had realized once and for all that emotions did not matter. Because only one was truly real: Fear. And Death certainly did not need to possess something as useless as that.  
  
So maybe he had been mistaken. By the end of it all, he would still wonder if he had been ignorant after all. If he had been walking aimlessly for all those years. On a path in which blindness had been necessary.


	2. Prologue

**Chapter 1**

  
”What do you mean you don’t know how? I need that role, and it is your job to get it for me. You’re going to convince the producer that he cannot make that movie without me in the lead role, do you get that? Do you?”  
His incompetent slug of a manager is fidgeting, visibly shrinking under the pressure of Matsumoto’s wrath.  
“But Matsumoto-san, the whole cast is practically announced already-”  
“Well that just means you haven’t been quick enough, doesn’t it? I told you about this role two weeks ago. I am not the manager; I don’t get paid to find the roles. If I did, you wouldn’t have a job, now would you?  
Now, get out of my sight before I fire you. And do not come back until you have secured me that role!”  
Ishida scrambles to get out of the room, stumbling over a chair as Matsumoto turns to grab a clean, white shirt from the rack. He forgets about the stupid little man, buttoning up the piece of clothing before throwing his leatherjacket over one shoulder. He throws a quick glance at his wristwatch, and decides that he has time to make a quick stop on the way to meet Satomi at the usual café. She will appreciate a box of the most expensive chocolate in Tokyo, as thanks for taking time out of her schedule for him.  
Some may consider the gesture as going overboard, to try a little too hard if one does not have ulterior motives.  
Well, that is just exactly what Matsumoto has.  
   
Matsumoto enters the small, stylish café at the corner of the street with a classy, black bag in one hand, his jacket in the other. The autumn air is still warm, and so the jacket quickly becomes disposed of in the afternoon. A small bell makes a charming noise above him, and he greets the waitress with a small incline of his head. Satomi is already there, sitting in a comfortable corner in her light dress, gazing out the window. Jun knows that she has already seen him arrive, that she is aware of his presence but pretends to be oblivious. How cute.  
Thus, Matsumoto takes his time to dispose of his jacket on the racks by the door, orders a cup of coffee, before finally making his way towards the woman, stride slow and purposeful.  
“Satomi-san,” he greets, the usual smile on his lips when he looks at her.  
She turns her head to him, pretending to be slightly surprised and answers in her light, chiming voice.  
“Matsumoto-san, nice to see you.”  
Her pretty eyes look straight into his through dark eyelashes, her smile proof of her delight at seeing him. She is way too easy to play, like everyone else around him. It is almost boring how she is no exception and no difference.  
As he sits down opposite from her, he puts the bag on the table.  
“I brought you something. For your trouble.”  
Their fingers lightly graze each other when he hands her the present, flirting looks thrown between them.  
“Oh, Matsumoto-san, you didn’t have to.” He did. “Is it really ok? Thank you.” She gracefully lifts her hand over her plump lips, the gesture a reaction to her delight, and a habit of hers.  
It is as easy as that. Spending his charm like this, on a woman is not without reason for Matsumoto. And this time too, it is not only for fun and games. As much of an ultimatum as he has set towards his manager, last week he himself already secured the lead role in the movie. Through Satomi. So while he only has to throw one interested glance in her direction, and he will have her dancing in his palm, he still enjoys watching his manager squirm. The man deserves it for being such a useless piece of garbage. Matsumoto does not need a manager. Why his agent thought it necessary is honestly beyond the actor’s comprehension.  
So when Ishida said that the roles were already secured, he had been right, but the stupid idiot has not thought to investigate just _who_ has stolen the role.  
Matsumoto will let the manager figure it out for himself.  
  
  
  
*  
  
  
  
_At this point, Sakurai could have just jumped down and ended it right then and there. Watching how the man behaves from afar is so boring and cliché that the angel already feels like choking. And dying. All over again. Humans these days are uninteresting. Shapeless and grey. Simple. This guy is no exception. He is as colourless as they come. The reaper can see how there is no life in the eyes of the young man._  
 _But still, there is something which bothers him about Matsumoto Jun. An edge to his personality which stops Sakurai just as he is about to descent. It seems too easy, a perfect fit into the mould of vanity of an arrogant actor. It looks almost constructed, like a mask of clay. And as Sakurai readies himself to travel to Earth to harvest the actor’s soul, Matsumoto Jun leaves that mask in the genkan of his dark apartment._  
  
  
*  
  
  
The apartment is cold. Dark and empty and solitary. This is no home to him.  
Devoid of any warmth to feel from the walls, from the furniture, from the pictures on the walls. Pictures of landscapes, of buildings, of faceless figures staring at him. There are no smiles in frames on the coffee table, no colourful magnets collected from all around the world, carried home as ridiculous souvenirs, and no recognizable smell of perfume or soap to make his heart beat faster in his chest. There is nothing. Not even a pretence that he has someone dear to him, nothing of personal value. Nothing to make him feel just remotely happy. About anything.  
And as Jun sits down on the black leather couch, staring into space, staring at the expensive flat screen television, while darkness welcomes him, he is sure that nothing is of any value. Not really. It is all pointless. Because there is no one to come home to.  
It does not matter if he secures an important role, if he becomes world famous, or disgustingly rich, because there is no one to tell. There is no one to brag to, no one to be proud of him. And no one who would search for him if he went missing, grieve for him if he were to disappear.  
And does it really matter then?  
The name Matsumoto belongs to an arrogant actor with star potential who messes around with women and rudely scolds his colleagues for being incapable. A man with style and money and fame to throw around. A man with no care in the world.  
The name Jun belongs to an empty shell of the man Matsumoto could have been.  
  
  
*  
  
  
The lithe man is sitting opposite Matsumoto, eating his spaghetti carbonara with the grace of a hyena. As he sends the actor another mocking look, dragging the fork slowly out of his mouth, Matsumoto has had enough,  
“Okay, what _is_ your deal Ninomiya? - Aside from mocking me about the fact that you’re the only person in this room who can eat greasy food without getting fat.”  
He watches the man through narrowed eyes as he, still grinning, wipes his mouth in the provided white napkin.  
“Well, since you’re asking so nicely, Matsumoto-kun,” he drawls, taking his god-forsaken time, “I was considering telling you about how well the filming for Spy Game is going,”  
Spy Game is the unoriginal name of Ninomiya’s new spy-movie. In which he is starring in the lead role as Shinji, alongside a beautiful American actress and a few other hot-shots.  
Matsumoto sighs and runs a hand through his hair,  
“I can only imagine it’s going very well, judging from your smirk and the fact that I know how well you can act out any role,” he just answers, giving his fellow actor everything he wants. He hopes he chokes on all that praise, “So tell me something I don’t know.”  
Ninomiya Kazunari is Matsumoto’s greatest rival and only friend. As much as they insult each other and compete on a daily basis, he is the only person Jun can brag about having a true relationship with. Nino is an intelligent, cunning man who is often too lazy to go and look for job offers himself. Mostly the jobs come to him. Since the actor is a natural talent and always has been, things come way easier to him than they come to Jun. But despite Ninomiya’s pride, he has never thought twice to help Matsumoto out. Ever.   
His friend grins at him, twirling the fork in front of his mouth, letting it grace over his lips, and now Matsumoto is officially curious,  
“Well,” Nino begins, actually throwing his eyes down for a split-second, and Matsumoto briefly wonders whether he is imagining things, “I’ve met someone. Or well…”  
The actor cannot help but bark out a laugh, leaning back and crossing his arms. Ninomiya Kazunari being all embarrassed? _Well, what do you know. Next thing will be pink elephants falling from the sky._  
“I guess… He doesn’t quite know about me,”  
“You met him on set?” Matsumoto asks, his eyebrow raised.  
“Yes. He’s a stuntman.”  
The other man stops eating, refusing to look at Matsumoto. Wow. He is really into this guy.  
“Then he obviously knows about you,” Matsumoto rolls his eyes, but still, it is not mean-spirited. Actually, for once, he finds his colleague cute.  
And he decides then and there, that it is his job to kick this idiot’s ass in gear. Now that he is finally interested in someone. Finally, an opportunity for Jun to pay Nino back for all that he has done for him.  
“I know right? But he just doesn’t seem to notice me! He’s always seemingly lost in his own thoughts. He doesn’t even know my name when I talk to him. I don’t know J… “  
Matsumoto sighs,  
“Well, then you’re obviously not giving him enough attention. He’s not the type to be star-struck since he’s surrounded by plenty of people who are full of themselves.”  
Ninomiya nods vigorously,  
“Guess you’ll have to use Plan B then.”  
Nino is not impressed. He looks at Matsumoto like he just stated something extremely stupid. But the actor does not say anything – he waits for Nino to ask for it, _come on ask for it._  
“… Which is?”  
Matsumoto smirks,  
“The old way. When you can’t use your fame to your advantage, you have to fight for it as just yourself, as bothersome as it is.”  
  
Jun does not expect it will be hard for Ninomiya to win another man over though. The guy is charming, he is caring – even if he refuses to admit as much – and he is funny. He knows all the right buttons to push to slither his way into people’s hearts. Okay, he is often quite a handful, he plays too many games, eats too many cup noodles, and you have to be quite a type yourself to deal with the guy for more than 30 seconds, but then again, this stunt-man dude sounds like he _is_ quite a type. After all, when he is not doing all sorts of dangerous jumps and falls, he is lost in his own thoughts according to Nino. Maybe that is why Matsumoto’s colleague finds him so charming. Because he is not fazed by anything.  
As Jun lifts the glass to his lips, feeling the burning taste of the whiskey all the way down his throat, the sound as he swallows the only thing filling the void around him, he wishes he could be himself like that. Without fear.  
  
*  
   
Pacing his dimly lit apartment, Matsumoto keeps going over his lines in the script. One hand is clutching his thick locks of hair in a frustrated gesture, his other moving sharply through the air whenever he gets a line wrong.  
“Damn it, damn it, damn it!” he hisses and throws the papers down on the table in distress, “This is IMPOSSIBLE!”  
He suspects he will never memorise and learn the dialogue, no matter how hard he tries. It is not the words, not the tone. He just cannot get the right _feeling_. Why did he want this role again? All this romance makes him feel sick. Yes, for Matsumoto it is fun to play around with Satomi to get the role, but for him to act opposite her, as her romantic interest in the movie, the thought is suddenly revolting to Jun. _He does not want to._  
But Matsumoto can definitely do it, he _has_ to do it.  
He pauses briefly to gulp down another glass of whiskey, hissing at the taste, before bending down to pick up the script again.  
Jun starts all over:  
“I’ve been searching for you for so long. I would do anything for you…”  
  
The alcohol is getting to his head. This is bad. But Jun cannot stop. The pain is too much. He is too far gone to be sure why his head is hurting this much. Is it the alcohol? Is it the faltering concentration? Is it the lack of sleep? Or the tears stinging his eyes?  
Jun is sure he is just getting sentimental because of the lines, his emotions strengthened by the whiskey. Whom does he have to imagine in front of him to be able to deliver the lines with the right feeling? If not drunk, if not Jun, how can he do it? Matsumoto is the actor, but Jun is the human. And as it is right now, he is not strong enough to bring the two together.  
  
  
*  
  
  
His manager’s eyes should not hold the concern they express right now, “Um, Matsumoto-san?”  
The actor does not want to be helped. Least by this guy. He just needs a break. A small chance to recollect his thoughts, his posture, gather his scrambled, fake emotions.  
The confused eyes surrounding him reminds him of how alien the situation is, how this is not how things should be going right now. They are all used to Matsumoto delivering his lines to perfection, if not the first, then the second time, not slipping on the third, the fourth, the tenth attempt. This is wrong. Something is wrong. Can Matsumoto not do it?  
He is frustrated, mad, something which he should not be. Because if Jun is feeling this way, there is no way Matsumoto can nail this scene. No way they will get the director’s acceptance.  
He wants to lash out at his manager, wants to grab his collar and shake him, tell him, and everyone else, that this is not a problem. _That just you wait, I will get this shit down._  
But that won’t happen. Matsumoto will not do something like that. And never on set. In front of this many people, he has an image to uphold.  
“Matsumoto-san?”  
Satomi’s voice snaps Jun out of it. When he looks into her glassy eyes, he feels nothing. Nothing of what should have been there. Right in his chest.  
“Ishihara-san,” he starts, then laces his voice with regret and apology, “I am sorry. I just…” A sigh for emphasis, “I need a break. I promise we’ll get this wrapped up. Ok?”  
After giving her a few seconds to worry for him, he smiles, evidently making her relax. That actor smile. Sickening how well it works. She has faith in him, trusts him, his image, “Right.”  
Then Matsumoto dismisses his manager. To give himself some space. To dwell in his quiet green room. Alone, just for a minute.  
Jun gets a drink of water, takes a good look at himself in the mirror as a reminder of whom he is supposed to be. His emotions do not matter. All that matters is Matsumoto. The actor. With Jun’s assets which he is to use. The strong features, the black hair, the full lips, the clear, brown eyes, the deep voice – they are all part of Matsumoto. They are the reason why women swoon over him. Because he is good-looking, because he is confident, because he is talented. And he needs this role. Everyone wants to see him in a romantic setting, anticipating how the tough CEO will fall in love with the gentle woman Satomi portrays; she will be someone who manages to melt his cold heart. His character needs someone like her. Someone to slowly wiggle their way into his soul, cure his madness.  
And that is where it becomes difficult for Jun. Because _he_ does not need that. His heart is way too hard for a gentle woman to soften, way too fragile to be exposed to pain. Jun wonders if his heart will ever crack open again without it breaking between the fingers of his potential saviour.  
Whether this saviour will eventually end up being the very person who finally kills him.  
  
  
  
*  
  
  
  
_“Master. We have taken care of the list you gave us.”_  
 _The small, ugly creature is kneeling in front of him. He can hear the fear in its croaky snarl of a voice. Even his hideous, wicked subordinates are terrified of him. It annoys him. It makes him want to crush them in his palm, to send them down to join the thousands of souls he has reaped._  
 _“And the politician?” he asks, voice unimpressed, dull, “I trust you’ve saved that one,”_  
 _Because he wanted to steal that soul himself._  
 _“O-of course, Master. Just as you ordered,”_  
 _Good._  
 _He rises from his huge, black throne. The one he occupies as he watches everything that goes on in the world below. He says, “I’ll be on my way then,” and has to clench his fist as he walks past the small, shaking demon._  
 _How they are all an itch he cannot cure. The reaper is aware of how competent his subordinates have to be for everything to run smoothly. So far, this one has done a fine job, nothing has gone amiss. Even so…_  
 _“Thank you for your service,”_  
 _Despite not having eyes in the back of his head, the dark angel sees everything – the way the creature’s eyes widen, how it reacts to his words, knows what they mean. And it manages to part its lips, show its crooked teeth, let out a whimper that is cut short as its body explodes. With just a thought, Sakurai dirties the marble floor with blood and bone._  
  
  
  
*  
  
  
  
”You don’t look so great there, J.” Ninomiya tells him, and Jun is actually surprised to see genuine concern in his eyes, hidden by that snarky tone of course.  
“It’s nothing.”  
The other man smiles wickedly, knowingly, and god, Jun hates that look on his face. It reminds him of how he just cannot hide from this guy’s cunning. Jun tries telling himself that Nino only has the guts to look at him like that because he is in such high spirits himself. Because he has actually started to socialize with that stunt-guy, actually managed to get him out for beer and cucumbers a few times. But Jun is not impressed yet.  
“Come on, Jun-pon, you cannot hide from me. You have all those ladies on your heels, you have no social life – I mean you’re hanging out with me – and you just fired your fourth manager. Or was it the fifth? You’re in deep shit.”  
And then he laughs. The imp laughs.  
Jun wants to strangle him. Till he chokes. But he doesn’t. Only because Nino is so very right. Matsumoto’s situation definitely could have been better. Conversely, Matsumoto should have fired his manager months ago. The incompetent idiot has done nothing but make life harder for Matsumoto, and after this week, the actor just had it. In his current state, struggling with a drama, Matsumoto does not need a manager who cannot help him and offer him support.  
Matsumoto rubs his eyes with both hands and sighs in defeat, “Okay, yes. Yes, I know. Guess I have to find a new manager. It won’t be easy though. Tell me, how did you find a great manager again? I seem to always get the useless ones.”  
Ninomiya slurps obnoxiously on his juice, “That’s because you’re so picky, Jun-kun. And a hard employer. Jeez, I would flee too if I was working with such an arrogant idiot.”  
Really, Jun does not understand how Matsumoto has not punched this idiot’s teeth out yet.  
He scowls, and Ninomiya holds his hands up in a surrendering gesture, probably sensing danger, though a smirk still graces his features.  
“Easy, ok, sorry. I will do my best to help you, J. I have a few ideas already, actually; I know this guy who may know a guy with some contacts. We’ll find you a new slave in no time.” And he winks.  
Sometimes, Matsumoto seriously does not know how to feel about his friend. And right now he finds himself in that exact dilemma. Does he want Nino’s help, knowing Nino will not shut up about it ever, and probably throw an insult at him every minute during their interviews, or would he have more luck trying on his own? Jun knows the answer already.  
He has neither the options, nor the time to be picky, and Ninomiya is the best chance he has got in this situation. Additionally, he does sometimes wish Nino was his manager. He is the only person in Jun’s life who knows how to keep up with him, the only one who has the strength to stay by Matsumoto, to see right through his dumb acts when he pretends to be tougher than he is.  
Matsumoto takes a sip of his coffee, letting silence stretch between the two, not quite knowing what to say to Nino. How does he thank him for what he is actually offering Matsumoto? Nino is at least as busy as him.  
A moment passes until Nino cannot keep quiet any longer. The tone he uses then makes Jun raise his head.  
“I haven’t seen Ohno-san for a couple of days now.” He says.  
He sounds sad. Just did a 180.  
By raising an eyebrow, Matsumoto urges him to continue. Nino is not normally the type to voice out his concerns, so it must be particularly bad this time.  
“I don’t know… Of course, there has not really been any stunt scenes to film since Tuesday, but he could have at least texted me or something, you know?”  
So they are at the texting stage now? Or at least Nino is, Jun figures.  
“Did you know that he is my stuntman too?”  
Apparently the thought makes Nino a little giddy, because he smiles again. And Jun cannot prevent a similar smile from ghosting over his face too. He cannot remember ever seeing Nino like this. He is very confusing to watch.  
“No, I don’t recall you telling me?”  
“He is,” Nino confirms, and Jun realizes that Nino has been itching to tell him then. Why hasn’t he done so sooner? Does Matsumoto really seem that uninterested in Nino’s life? “He steps in when there’s a dangerous scene in my script. Isn’t that nice? We are cooperating to make this role great. It’s so cool J!”  
Matsumoto smiles, Jun’s heart sinks. Nino looks excited, telling him all this, but there is a bitter edge in his words, a hint of his worry for Ohno, worry for a friend who has not shown up for an eerie amount of days. The stunts are most likely difficult to do, some may even be dangerous, and Jun knows that Nino probably shares his fear of the worst. Nino has not seen his colleague since Tuesday, and Jun can imagine how he might very well feel the same as Nino right now, if his friend was absent like that.  
Maybe. Often, Jun is not sure how he feels.  
Ninomiya continues:  
“This role has become so enjoyable for me, you know? I actually look forward to go to work.”  
Jun can feel himself zoning out, he’s stopped listening to Nino’s voice. The talking slowly fades into the background of his mind. Sometimes, conversations do end like this. Maybe that is why Nino is reluctant to tell Matsumoto things?  
Jun wants to understand, but such things as looking forward to leave for work, enjoying where one is heading in life; it is… still beyond Jun. Even so, he continues to do his best to nod, to pretend to understand.  
“That’s great Nino.”  
“I will be sure to ask Oh-chan out for a drink when we finish filming.”  
_Oh-chan?_  
“You have to hurry then. Don’t you finish filming sometime next week?” Matsumoto inquires, draining the remains of his coffee.  
It has gone cold.  
“Yup. And then we will go out celebrating. Hopefully not for long though. I haven’t played Blade for a while now, I have a craving.” He suddenly points at Matsumoto, the pad of his finger right between Matsumoto’s eyes, “Challenge me J! Come at me. Tell me something I have to do that night.”  
Jun is getting slightly cross-eyed, and blinks.  
“Are you serious?” He sighs.  
What are they? High school kids?  
Nino and his idiotic ideas.  
“Something concerning Ohno-san?” Matsumoto does his best to sound as unimpressed as he feels.  
His friend nods, a devious – no shy? – grin on his face. Matsumoto shrugs,  
“Well then, confess your love to him.”  
“Ahhh, no J!” Ninomiya throws his head back in exasperation. Apparently Matsumoto’s answer was incorrect. Bummer. In his quiet mind, Jun perceives that this challenge is Nino giving himself something to look forward to. To forget his worry for Ohno. Matsumoto laughs. Of course, Nino would never do such a thing. People confess to him, not the other way around.  
“Kiss him then.” He answers with a smirk.  
And Ninomiya raises his head again, eyes twinkling as he looks into Jun’s eyes. To think this guy likes other challenges than getting 200 points in Mario Cart – if that is even possible. Jun knows little about videogames. Jun actually, for once, feels the thrill of this opportunity for Nino. If he cannot feel it for himself, sharing Nino’s joy is also ok. Probably.  
“Nice and long. Surprise him.”  
At that, Nino grins.  
_Challenge accepted._  
  
  
*  
  
  
_He tilts his head slightly, looking down at the sleeping man. Covered in white blankets, a cool towel across his brow, he certainly does look quite bad. Maybe even bad enough to be on the verge of dying._  
 _There are tubes in his arms, liquid entering his bloodstream, a beeping from a machine just beside his bed, but Sakurai has to admit he could fool someone lesser to think that he will get better. Hospitals these days. They really do not make his job easier. Some days, he plans on harvesting a human’s soul, only for the scheduled death to be cancelled last minute._  
 _The reaper smirks._  
 _But today will not be such a day. Death has not descended this far just to look at the man and change his mind. And rescheduling is, by the minute, becoming more and more unlikely._  
 _“Well, you were quite careless, weren’t you? Risking your life like that, exposing yourself to danger on the job.” Sakurai takes a step towards the bed and lets his black wings stretch out behind him, so huge that they fill up the whole room. If not for the light in his white eyes, the room would have been swallowed in complete darkness, the angel’s silhouette claiming all light._  
 _The man in the bed is very young, small of stature, and now – like so many other times – the reaper is overcome by a strange kind of regret, a disappointment that he has to reap them so early, letting the old ones live on. And sometimes, in a fit of rage, when he needs to gain back control of his non-existent emotions, he takes out hundreds of elderly ahead of time, letting their homes burn, just because he can. Even if it is not their time. But it does not matter. They are close to dying anyway, and the paperwork will not be too difficult to redo in their cases. Besides, who is to punish the reaper? No law is above that of Death._  
 _With heavy-lidded eyes, Sakurai places a finger gently against the patient’s forehead, brushing aside a strand of sand-coloured hair, a gesture which could seem affectionate if not for the reason of his visit._  
 _Instantly, as if electrocuted, the man’s eyes spring open, and Sakurai is met with his shocked brown gaze,_  
 _“Wha?! Who… Who are you?”_  
 _Sakurai notes that his voice is deep, groggy, a sleepy mumble, but knows the human well enough to know that he usually sounds like this. It is not only due to the sudden awakening, or his current state. The man usually sounds like his mind is completely elsewhere. As of now, he is very much present. He struggles to sit up in bed, his face twisting in pain as he moves his broken bones._  
 _Sakurai notices how thin he is; how fragile he looks. All of this was hidden under the blankets. If he could, the human would probably run. Everyone tries to flee when they are met with Death’s colossal presence; his dark, twisted aura._  
 _The reaper lets the man get a good, long look at him, gives him time to change his question to: “What are you!?” before he introduces himself and his purpose._  
 _“Ohno Satoshi, I am the Angel of Death. And I have come to claim your life.”_  
  
  
  
*****  
  
  
  
”Hai. Cut!”  
Finally. _Finally._ It is over and done. He has managed to pull through, managed to finally complete and nail the last take. And the relief he feels washing over him, at the realization that the struggle is over, is so great that he laughs. Never again does he have to act out this role.  
People are clapping and cheering, someone hands him a huge bouquet of flowers to which Matsumoto bows in gratitude. Had he not taken his medicine this morning, their pollen would surely have affected him now. Jun wants to sag in relief, to run away from set now that they have reached the end, but he knows that he must stay. A little while longer. Just a little while longer…  
Satomi comes over and touches his shoulder gently,  
“Thank you for your hard work, Matsumoto-san,” she says, smile more telling than her words.  
Matsumoto manages not to cringe.  
She is attracted to him, maybe even more so now after their play, with how their characters interacted, what they did together. In the end, Matsumoto somehow managed to figure out how to talk and how to look at her – really look – to appear like a man in love. But it was all an act. Credit goes to Ninomiya, and the look in his eyes. Jun hopes Satomi will not cause him unnecessary trouble later.  
“You too,” he replies, bowing politely.  
He does not linger afterwards for a round of drinks of celebration at the nearest bar. When he is then asked shyly to join only _her_ for a drink, he refuses too, handing her some stupid lie about a new role he has to prepare for. Bullshit. But Jun is tired. Exhausted after all the pretending. An actor acting. Tough work. Lingering work.  
He stops by the hairdresser for a haircut on his way home. Asks the man to make him look fresh, different, younger. As if it can somehow take his fatigue away. His hair has grown too long, so as he watches the dark locks fall to the floor, he decides he needs a change of skin too. To renew himself. If he can. He will fight for it.  
He ends up with his black hair spiked up in the middle, stylish and different and a little edgy. No more romance scripts for a very long time. And then there is the search for a new manager.  
  
*  
  
Cute.  
 _A wicked grin is colouring the features of Death. Usually, he would never describe these worthless creatures in such a term, but here he is, looking down at a young human actor and finding him cute._  
 _He likes the new hairstyle, the new image. The desperate attempt to try and become someone else._  
 _This man continues to surprise the reaper._  
 _How very amusing._

 


	3. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Those 'Chapter's really annoy me. Blame the prologue for the confusion. I am sorry.

**Chapter 2**  
  
With arms crossed, sporting a bored expression, he is looking at the 5 th man showing up for the job interview. Ninomiya volunteered to help, but it is still surprising that he is the one to ask all the questions. Actually, Matsumoto is taken aback by how far his friend is willing to help him out with something which is evidently his own bloody problem. It is his own fault that he is such a difficult employer. Such a difficult person. Matsumoto throws a glance at the man beside him. He really should start appreciating Nino more, give the man more credit. There is nothing in this for him, absolutely nothing, and even so, he is prepared to do all this for Matsumoto.  
“And what do you think you can bring with you to this position? Why do you qualify for this job as Matsumoto-san’s manager?” Ninomiya asks this question for the 5th time, and Jun notes how he does not sound tired at all. Jun is tired, and he is not even the one leading this interview, this _show_.  
After fumbling around his chair, his slim fingers skimming the edges, fidgeting, the man answers rather insecurely:  
“Well, um, I graduated from Tokai, and um… They taught us how to, um, be good employees and, uh… I am good at scheduling.” Suddenly, his head snaps up and he looks straight at Matsumoto, “I think I could be of good use to you, Matsumoto-san, I will protect your image.”  
Oh come on, he cannot be serious. Matsumoto rolls his eyes and notes how the eager look in the man’s – what was his name? Tanaka-san? – Tanaka’s – eyes falters at the reaction. Is this small, skinny, nervous man supposed to be able to protect anything of Jun’s? Not bloody likely.  
Matsumoto sighs.  
“I think that will be quite enough, Ninomiya,” he tells his friend. Tanaka is not even granted another glance.  
Matsumoto stands up, chair scraping loudly on the floor. And the timid man clings to the bag in his lap, as if it is a lifejacket and he is lost at sea. Yeah right, not manager-material. Jun is better off protecting himself.  
“I need a break.”  
  
“We’ll get nowhere like this, Jun-kun,”  
Ninomiya has joined Matsumoto beside the coffee machine, standing with his own cup of lukewarm, watery coffee. Matsumoto reaches up to run a hand through his hair, only to realize that he has recently cut and styled it, making the move rather impossible. His hand falls to his side again.  
“I know Nino, but seriously? Do you think _any_ of the candidates so far are qualified? Honestly?”  
Ninomiya shakes his head, “No, no I don’t. Geez, I really thought we’d find you someone today. I’m sorry J.” he sighs.  
It is Jun’s turn to shake his head. Nino is not the one who should apologize, “You’re helping me so much here, please don’t apologize. Well, there is one candidate left, right? Maybe 6 will be our lucky number.”  
A dry chuckle escapes Nino,  
“You do know that 6 is the devil’s number right? Or well, one third of the devil’s number. I really doubt it will be lucky.”  
10 minutes later, as long as they could stretch it, Ninomiya and Matsumoto return to their seats at the judges' table, waiting for the last person to come test his luck with the job as a manager for the complicated actor. While Matsumoto has already told Nino that he is not expecting much, he should probably be hoping for the best, but he is so tired by now that he just wants to get this day over with.   
Ninomiya occupies the chair in the middle of the table, which separates the actors from the people who come in, Jun sits beside him, on the side-lines. Still, Ninomiya will be the one to ask the main questions, Matsumoto the one to poke at their weak arguments and shatter their defences, if they have any. He folds his hands in his lap, intertwining his fingers and leans back. Then he signals to Ninomiya that he is as ready as he gets. Bring in the cattle.   
It is difficult to know exactly what they had expected from the last person today, the man whose name is Aiba Masaki, but it surely was not for the man to come in wearing a wide, bright smile, seemingly not affected at all by the formal atmosphere and the two sour faces analysing him.  
He makes a beeline, straight towards Matsumoto, and extends a slim hand,  
"Aiba Masaki, pleasure to make your acquaintance Matsumoto-san. Thank you for taking your time to see me today."  
He has a low, kind of gravelly voice, but the way his eyes crinkle when he smiles takes Jun completely aback. As he shakes the eager man's hand, he notices how his handshake is warm and firm. He greets Ninomiya in a similar manner and then backs away a few steps until Nino asks him to take seat in the chair provided for him. This Aiba person may look overly happy, a tad too relaxed, like he does not take the situation seriously, but his introduction and the way he greets Matsumoto and Ninomiya in turn certainly tells otherwise.  
Jun is surprised to find himself liking this person already when Nino mercilessly starts firing off his questions. As surprised as Ninomiya also seems, he still manages to retain a straight, professional face. Matsumoto cannot help admiring his fellow actor again.  
"Please tell Matsumoto-san and I why you think you qualify for this job as an actor's manager. Not only do you have to keep track of a tight schedule, you also have to make sure that your employer's image does not become tainted or hurt in any way. And you have to be aware of all the job opportunities for the actor and make sure to always inform him. Do you think you can manage that?" The question of doom, really.  
Instead of answering right away, Aiba straightens his posture and lets his eyes flicker towards Matsumoto for a short instant before resting them on Ninomiya again. In his mind, Jun gives him points for at least _looking_ like he is considering how to best answer the question,  
"To me, the hardest and most important part of being a manager is not the schedule, nor the information I seek out and provide my employer with," Aiba starts, and Matsumoto looks towards Nino to catch the way his eyebrows rise, "It is about the trust. You see, for me, to be a trusted manager is about knowing everything about the man I work for. If I know his thoughts and wishes, I can easily pick only the jobs I know he will like and benefit from. Aside from that, I can seek to prevent taints or possible scandals _before_ a situation takes place. Therefore, if I do get the job as manager for Matsumoto-san, I shall do my absolute best to get to know him as a person and not just as an actor."  
Aiba Masaki smiles. And as his bright eyes meet Jun's, Jun is not sure why his heart is beating so fast in his chest. Right now, he dismisses it as respect for this man. He is actually impressed. That is a first.  
  
*  
  
If Jun had known how Aiba would start hanging onto him like a four-year old clinging to his left leg, he probably would have reconsidered whether hiring Aiba was a good idea. Or at least mentally prepared himself beforehand.  
During the following couple of days, the new manager is constantly by Matsumoto’s side, asking him questions about everything – not always on work-related topics,  
“I’ve heard you like to cook, Matsumoto-san. What is your favourite dish? Will you cook for me?” He would ask.  
“Do you like baseball Matsumoto-san? I’ve recently taken an interest in the sport, do you want to play together some time?”  
“What is your favourite colour Matsumoto-san?”  
The actor seriously wonders why those questions hold any importance at all. Why does Aiba want to know?  
First, he simply ignores the man, but he soon realizes that there is no lid to be put on his constant blabbering, his laughing, his childish curiosity, so Matsumoto finds himself beginning to answer the seemingly pointless questions. And then he realizes how much he enjoys having someone to talk to. Someone who is always there. Even if the questions and conversations are idiotic, completely irrelevant and often only one-way.  
“Pasta, Aiba-san. And no.”  
“I like baseball, but no. No playing.”  
“There is no such thing. But I suppose I like purple.”  
Like this, Aiba Masaki manages to have Matsumoto warming up to him. Though it is not without also getting a taste of his wrath.  
“Shut up, Aiba! For once, I need you to be quiet,” he yells, voice loud in the green room, “Thanks to you, I have to memorize a ton of new lines in a very short amount of time. So please, _for once_ , shut it.” Matsumoto turns to glare daggers at his manager, before turning back to the important paper in his hands.  
They are alone in the room, waiting for Matsumoto’s first take of the new drama. A drama in which Aiba has managed to land Matsumoto in the lead role. Just like that. Right after he finished that romance movie.  
In contrast to that one, this project actually has an interesting script. Even Jun was impressed when Aiba came in, waving the papers energetically, happily announcing:  
“I got you something really interesting here, Matsumoto-san. You will definitely love this. You might even consider giving me a bonus for my efforts.”  
Aiba had not even been Matsumoto’s manager for a week by then. Already taking about freaking bonuses as if such a thing actually existed.  
Genres of the new drama include suspense and action with a twist of mystery, and Jun, of course, likes it instantly. How Aiba could have known how he loves these particular themes, he is prone to question. But in the end, he lets it be. He convinces himself to just enjoy the fact that someone aside from himself managed to do something right for once.  
The project has another twist, it is unconventional in the way that only half of the actors have been announced so far, only half the important roles established. Alongside Matsumoto Jun, Mizuhara Kiko – actress and model – will play the female lead as his partner within the agent bureau. The role of his second partner and friend will be occupied by a new up-and-coming actor named Shigeaki Kato, a quiet man who is interested in both writing and fishing – not unlike his role in the drama. Surprisingly, Matsumoto likes both of them instantly upon first meeting. Mizuhara is bubbly and spunky without being annoying, Kato is quiet and clever. Jun can see the three of them getting along well on set, which will hopefully transfer onto the screen. Overlooking the extras and smaller roles, this is as far as the list of roles goes for now. Matsumoto knows is that there are supposedly a rival and a villain in the script too, but neither of the names has been announced yet. Particularly for the role of the villain, the name will not be announced until the very last moment, when Matsumoto comes face to face with him during filming. Because the leads are to be taken by surprise, just like the audience. All the director’s idea, and Jun finds it absolutely thrilling. Finally, some excitement.  
Aiba just chuckles at Matsumoto’s outburst and shuffles further into the room, occupying himself with looking through the actor’s wardrobe. Jun cannot pay him any attention now, so he lets him do what he wants. He goes over the lines of his script in his head, thinks of how he wants to say them, which expressions to wear, how to best portray the mentality of his role.  
“You can’t be serious, Kyoko-san,” he mumbles to himself, “Of course we are going to catch this psychopath. So don’t lose faith now.”  
Jun rises from the couch, one hand in his pocket, eyes glued to the paper. Around him, the room starts to melt and change into the office of the agent bureau. He no longer sees the words on the paper. “Our killer is insanely intelligent, he is cunning and he is arrogant. He _knows_ we will do our best to catch him, but he does not believe we will succeed. And that is his mistake. He is definitely underestimating us. This bastard will not make a wrong move, not when we’re all his pieces to play with. It would not surprise me if he sees this chase as a game, the world his own personal chess board. But we are not simple runners, you and I, following the patterns laid out for us. We are agents, and we _will_ beat this guy.”  
  
  
  
*  
  
  
  
_“I appreciate your hard work, Masaki,”_  
 _His subordinate bows his head slightly, remains quiet, though a wide grin is plastered on his otherwise soft face,_  
 _“Keep an eye on him for me, will you? Never leave him out of your sight, never let him withhold any important information, and make sure nothing touches him. No one aside from me. His soul is to be raw and clean.”_  
 _Sakurai studies the face of the demon as he bows once more. This is his ace, his best man, the most talented demon amongst the ranks. And also the only other person aside from himself that he even remotely trusts – to a certain extent of course. For a job such as this, Sakurai has made sure he is available. He would want no one else in this position._  
 _“I shall do my utmost to serve your best will, Master,” Masaki answers, the smile still there. There is something eerie about the way the creature always smiles, always seems in a good mood. He is energetic and spunky and always quick to laugh. Hiding his ugly self. Which is what makes him absolutely perfect for this task. No one suspects Aiba, “I shall not fail you.”_  
 _“Good. That is good.”_  
  
  
  
*  
  
  
  
“He’s in the hospital, Jun-kun,”  
His head snaps up. He does not often hear this tone in Ninomiya’s voice – if he ever has before? – the gravelly edge, warning of the dread just below the surface.  
“He’s…?”  
“Yes, he is,” Jun watches as his friend swallows the lump in his throat, the shakiness to his words. He is trying to be brave, because a long time ago Kazunari swore not to cry off-screen. A completely idiotic statement, really, “He was hurt on set after all, fell down from some high-, I don’t- I don’t know the details.”  
The café is quiet at this time in the morning, having just opened, and the two actors are the only ones here, each facing individual cups of coffee. Ninomiya is holding onto his in a grip which seems bordering desperate to Jun, one solid point of balance now that his world is turned upside down, one secure thing to retain him from showing how severe the worry in his chest it. Since Ninomiya is not moving much, he appears completely still and frozen, as opposed to Matsumoto who leans back in his chair, brow furrowed.  
Jun feels a tug in him to comfort his friend, maybe a pleasant hand on his arm, but will that be…?  
“My colleague couldn’t tell me much, but he gave me the address of the hospital Oh-chan is staying in. I guess my colleague could read my face well enough to see that Oh-chan may be more than just a stunt-man to me.” Ninomiya chuckles without humour, and still refuses to look at Matsumoto.  
“Why don’t we go visit him then?” Jun hears himself say, and that gets Nino to raise his eyes, “Actually, I am surprised you haven’t gone yet, considering how much you like him. I think I can convince Aiba-san to let me off the hook if it’s just for today.”  
The answer to this is so clear, and Jun smiles at his friend. This is the best thing he can come up with, a way of supporting Nino, showing him that Jun can also be there for _him_ once in a while. Considering how much Nino has done for Matsumoto recently – hell, he helped him find the perfect manager. Something which until then had seemed close to impossible. And Jun is kind of tired of hearing about all the things Ninomiya wants to do with this Ohno-guy. He certainly cannot do all those things while the other man is in the hospital, now can he? How long has it been now? A month? And still, Nino has not made a move on Ohno. Now is the best chance.  
“You’d go with me?”  
Jun snorts and folds his arms across his chest, “Of course, Nino. We need to make sure your friend is ok, right?” he cannot help but wiggle his eyebrows.  
So this is what a person in love looks like. The usually snarky and cool Ninomiya Kazunari looking all vulnerable and soft for once, when someone is intensely on his mind. What a nice change, Jun reflects, and has to admit it suits the man. At Jun’s words, the change is evident in the way Ninomiya’s face lights up considerably, worry making room for excitement. Clearly, love makes one kind of slow too. Nino shoots up from the chair, making it squeak against the floor-boards and Jun’s heart skips a beat in surprise.  
“Let’s go right now then!” Nino is already turning to grab his brown jacket.  
Jun blinks, “Huh? Wh- now?! But what about coff-”  
“No time for that J, come on. I will treat you to hospital coffee when we get there. Let’s go!”  
And is that not a secure way to leave no room for discussion.  
  
*  
  
”3104… 3104…3..”  
Ninomiya is mumbling beside him as they walk, looking at every nametag on every single door they pass, going back and forth along the walls of the corridor. The corridor which is blinding white has soft plaster on the floor, cushioning the noise of their shoes, the florescent lights above bathing their surroundings in a strange, eerie light. Should anyone ever claim liking hospitals, it will be a blatant lie. No one likes hospitals. And Jun blames the lack of sound and the disgusting lightning. He is clutching a plastic cup of thin coffee, which tastes of sour nothing, a very bad substitute for the usual latté he opts for getting at the café down the corner from where he lives. The café where he always goes when he does not prefer coffee and homemade breakfast alone. Which is every single day. Why would he even bother to make anything when he is just alone?  
He takes a sip from his good-for-nothing drink and instantly regrets it.  
No, people definitely hates hospitals because of the stuff they call coffee here. Ew.  
Suddenly, Nino comes to a halt, and Jun mirrors him, stops by his side and peeks over Nino’s shoulder at the baby blue sign beside the sliding door. He knows before reading the name that they have arrived at the right place, judging from Ninomiya’s reaction. A slight smile tugs at the corner of Jun’s lips when he remembers how Nino would barge into Jun’s hospital room when he fractured his leg back in high school. The kid back then had slammed the door open as he flew in, in his eagerness almost sitting down on Jun’s bad leg. What a scene that had been: A nurse had arrived soon after Ninomiya, demanding that he check in at the desk before just stomping into a patient’s room – you couldn’t just do that, she had said. And Jun had laughed. Laughed for the first time after falling down from that stupid stage. He had been so angry at himself, because the fall had rendered him unable to participate in that school play. He had aimed for the lead role, and with his leg in a cast that was definitely impossible. But just like that, his friend had managed to bring a smile back on his face, and his regret had evaporated. That play had not been important anyway, no interesting plot. And it was not like he had wanted to play an exotic prince.  
Right now, it is not I-don’t-give-jackshit-Ninomiya standing outside Jun’s hospital room. This is nervous, fidgeting Ninomiya who has remembered to check in at the reception desk, this is tense Ninomiya who has used the bathroom six times along the corridor, making sure he does not have anything stuck in between his teeth or toilet paper hanging from his left foot.  
Matsumoto sighs, but the smile does not leave his face, and it is with warmth in his heart that he younger man takes Ninomiya’s arm and opens the door for the two of them to enter.  
A soft breeze meets them when they walk in, a fresh smell one would not have expected in a hospital room, and now that he is here, Ninomiya moves past Jun to emerge by the bed ahead of him. Matsumoto falls into the background as the eyes of the small man in the bed widens in surprise. He is a lot slimmer than Jun imagined, a lot cuter, with puffy cheeks, tousled hair and sleepy, warm eyes. If this is the man Ninomiya has fallen for, Jun will not stand in his way. Actually, with the air around this Ohno, Jun reckons he may be perfect for tolerating all the crooks of Ninomiya’s queerness and mischievous behaviour.  
“Ninomiya-san?”  
His voice is sleepy, soft, despite the surprised note in it. His light brown eyes follow Jun’s friend as he sits down on the edge of the bed, a bit stiff and hesitant in his movements. Seeing how careful Nino is to not overstep any of Ohno’s boundaries is a wonder in itself. He is certainly different around this person.  
As an outsider, Jun has no idea where those boundaries lie; how close the two of them actually are, how they speak and behave around one other. So he decides to remain a step behind, to let the two of them greet each other properly, catch up.  
“Oh-chan, how are you?” Ninomiya says tentatively, and Jun is honestly taken aback by the softness with which he speaks, the warmth in his eyes as he looks at the other man. Jun has not witnessed that look in his eyes before, “Our colleague told me you hurt yourself doing a pretend fall, said it was pretty bad. That- That you were in critical condition.”  
Ohno mumbles something before looking down to play with a loose thread in the covers, “I was clumsy. I am sorry to have troubled you.”  
Jun shivers. The breeze from the window is suddenly no longer comfortable, but too cool on his skin. He throws a glance at the curtains billowing in, at the streaks of sunlight making shadows dance over the floor and Ohno’s bed. When he looks up again, Nino is patting Ohno’s head, fingers stroking his soft-looking hair, and despite the wonder and surprise evident in Ohno’s eyes, he does not object.  
“I’m relieved to see that you are doing well, but please take better care, ok? I don’t want you to get hurt.”  
Jun feels like he is intruding on something, he is not supposed to witness this. He wants to leave the two of them alone, to give Nino his chance at showing Ohno how he feels about him, why it is that he has come all the way here to check on him and make sure that he is ok. From what they heard from the nurses, it seems to have been a very close call. Ninomiya turned white as a sheet, when they told him how close Ohno was to dying, how it was a miracle that the operation was a success and how the medicine practically brought him back from the verge of death. It had apparently not just been a “fall”, a few broken bones. The small man had been gravely injured.  
Jun retreats a little, hands behind his back and bows slightly, intending to leave the room quietly and discreetly. His job at getting Ninomiya here is done.  
But then Ohno suddenly yells.  
The sound breaks the silence like glass shattering, causing Jun to freeze mid-step, Nino to yelp and flinch, almost tilting off the bed as Ohno flies up, straight as a board. His stare is aimed directly at Jun, eyes so wide that they look like they may fall out of their sockets, his mouth open as small, quick huffs of breath escape him. He looks like he has trouble breathing, and Jun is instantly affected too, just looking at how utterly frightened the man seems. The terror in Ohno’s eyes is real, and causes goose bumps to rise all over Jun’s skin, makes the hairs on his arms stand on end. His heart rate increases, he gasps for air.  
“Wh- what?” his voice is a weak stutter.  
Ohno’s voice is quivering as he points beside Jun. And then he pushes back _against_ the pillows, crawling and shrinking into the furthest corner of the bed away from Jun.  
“He’s- he’s right here. There. Beside you!”  
Ohno points his finger at Jun, behind Jun, and Jun’s first thought is that there is something seriously wrong with Ohno. Conversely, his fright affects Jun. Jun feels the fear leave spikes on the back of his neck, creeping over his skin, even if there is visibly no one else in the room aside from himself and Ninomiya.  
“What are you talking about?” his voice is far from as sure as he wants to feel, “There is no one here.”  
What is this? Why does that odd man act this way? Was he not supposed to be getting better?  
Ohno only briefly glanced at Jun when he came in, before turning his attention to Ninomiya, whose presence is now clearly non-existent for him. Hell, it is not as much because he is looking at Jun, but something _right_ next to Jun, his eyes focused on the blank wall, a few centimetres from the actor. A presence only Ohno can see. Is he hallucinating? What kind of medication did they give him?  
“There is!” Ohno almost screams, shaking his head.  
His eyes are wide, body visibly shaking, out of control. It is utterly horrifying to look at. And Ninomiya looks equally terrified. Ninomiya who refuses to believe in ghost stories. Looking back and forth between Ohno and Jun, he looks utterly confused, and mortified.  
“He came to take me…” Ohno continues, closing his eyes briefly and then clings to Nino’s hand, “I thought he had changed his mind. Please! Please let me live! I feel fine. I don’t want to die!!”  
His voice rings in Jun’s ears, turns into an uncomfortable screeching, and he feels claustrophobic all of a sudden, as if what Ohno says is actually true. He anxiously looks around the room, turns his head around again and again in a frantic search. _Where?_ He shivers. _Where?! Damn, why is it so cold?_  
Suddenly, it hits him. And slowly, he turns back to stare at Ohno, his own expression mirrored on Ohno’s face. He knows whom Ohno is talking about. Not a ghost.  
Death.  
Jun is not the type to believe in supernatural beings such as demons and ghosts, but this is a hospital. A creepy place for the dead and dying. Of course, Death is here.  
The sound of Ninomiya trying to calm Ohno down is faint and far away, while Ohno continues to blabber about how he was _so_ close to having his soul stolen away by the man. No, not a man, a demon. A dark angel. He continues to point at something behind Jun, his arm swaying, and the actor feels it. He imagines the hideous creature standing beside him, claws long, teeth sharp in a wicked grin. It is reaching for him, its huge eyes glimmering red, and the disgusting, slimy wings are swallowing up the air in the room. Its aura is cold and clammy, like the debts from which it came, the place it wants to bring every single human soul when their time arrives.  
“NO!”  
It takes a moment for him to realize that he was the one to split the air with a chilling scream. His panicked yell has caused Ohno to fall silent, to look at him like Ninomiya is. Now Ohno’s frightened stare is aimed at _him_. Now there is sympathy and dread to be found in his brown eyes, and it seems so odd to Jun when he leans forward, hand reaching out as if to soothe Jun, as if to ask what it is he is seeing. _Do you see the same as I?_  
Did Jun see anything? Or was it all his imagination running wild, fuelled by Ohno’s screams and blown pupils? Is he imagining how all his blood has run cold, how his vision is suddenly blurring?  
He does not dare linger to find out. Even if it is all just his imagination running wild…  
_No!_  
And he runs.  
There is no rational reason for Jun to be afraid. He is not the one who was close to dying. He is not the one to be hunted by the reaper, he did not hurt himself. _It is not real._ But why does he then feel so cold? Why does he believe the mad words leaving Ohno’s mouth? Why does he share the man’s fear?  
_It does not make sense!_  
It has to be a hallucination. It has to be a weak mind falling prey to an ill man’s senseless stories.  
  
  
_This is just too good. Too damn great unexpected entertainment._  
 _He can affect the human, he can scare him. Without even being present, without even showing himself!_  
 _Peculiarly, he does not mind the fact that Ohno Satoshi can see him, see his presence around Matsumoto Jun. If it can scare Jun senseless, it is definitely worth exploiting._  
 _Sakurai finds himself curious. He wants to see more of this Jun. Vulnerable, terrified, unstable Jun, a Jun who could easily crumble in his hands, should he squeeze just a little bit too tightly around his fragile mind._  
 _He wants to force the human out of the skin-like armour he is carrying around him always, wants to expose his bright burning soul. Seeing his pretty face all screwed up in fear and pain is just too good. Too thrilling._  
 _Sakurai is high on the realization of how much power he can actually exert over the man._  
 _His cruel laughter fills the white, spotless corridors, the sound jumping between shining, white walls, and Death wonders whether Jun can hear it too. He wants him to hear._  
 _Jun will only taste so much better with time, riled up, off balance, blood sloshing, emotions tumbling down. Sakurai can help him reach that state._  
 _He grins wickedly as he easily follows the man as he bolts through the doors. He can see beads of sweat on the human’s temple, hear his desperate heartbeat thumping against his eardrums._  
 _“Now Jun, now you’re mine.”_  
  
_Sakurai has never felt this attracted to any prey before, the possessive emotions rising in him alien but strong, the desire to dominate and control this human running deep. Never has he wanted to see a soul burn so badly, but witnessing Matsumoto crack and crumble, shatter in front of him is suddenly something he wants more than anything else._  
  
  
  
*  
  
  
  
The conceited actor’s arms are folded in front of him, elbows resting on the dark wood as he leans across the table. And with brown eyes nailed on Matsumoto, he displays an arrogant smile and something flares in Jun. He wants as little to do with this guy as possible,  
“I would offer you another beer, but we’d all like you well prepared for tomorrow’s filming,” the man says, “Can’t have our main personality waltzing around with a hangover.”  
Jun gets to urge to turn his eyes to the heavens, to leave and ignore this prick. As if he would accept anything this guy has to offer anyway.  
“Right,” he just answers, returning the smile with a stoic one of his own. Just because.  
They are only here because the director thought it a good idea to meet up and get to know one another, before filming between the two of them starts. Alcohol is usually the best way to start a relationship, but in this case, Jun wishes there was no need for that establishment. He does not want any kind of relationship with the actor in front of him. With his seemingly lack of respect, his over-styled brown hair and leatherjacket, his mere appearance pisses Matsumoto off.  
Kamenashi grins and leans back again, “Also,” Christ, he still wants Matsumoto’s attention? How interesting does he think he is? “I have been looking forward to a proper equal in acting with me.”  
Jun’s brown eyes glare daggers at the man. Only rewarded with a spark of mischief in Kamenashi’s opposing stare. Does this guy really consider himself cool for saying such a stupid thing? Does he think he will earn Matsumoto’s respect with this behaviour?  
“And according to the director, you are one of the best men in the country for that lead role, Matsumoto-san.”  
Oh, so this is what it is about. The stuck-up Kamenashi Kazuya wanted that role for himself, but did not get it. Such a shame for him. Now he will play the role of Fujita Gin, the rival of Matsumoto’s character, Akiyama Ryou  – and isn’t that appropriate, Jun already dislikes him and wants to beat him in every way possible – in the drama which has been given the name ‘ _Pawns_ ’.  
Behind Matsumoto, a group of drunk people starts to sing loudly, and he smiles, the expression not reaching his eyes,  
“We shall see, Kamenashi-san.”  
While he takes another long drag of his drink, just to avoid talking to the man opposite him, Kamenashi watches him like a coyote. Matsumoto is counting the seconds, just waiting for the opportune moment to leave. He has already been here 30 minutes too long.  
“I reckon you’re not too bad yourself,” he tells Kamenashi after putting down his beer, “Since you got the other important role, Kamenashi-san, I will look forward to seeing you by my side at the finish line.” With that last comment, Matsumoto winks at the wide-eyed man and does not wait around to catch the response his remark leaves. Instead he gets up, grabs his hat and heads for the door.  
Hidden by the shade covering his eyes, Matsumoto walks through the dark streets towards his apartment, considering how to best take on this new opponent. The odd thing is, though, instead of only being offended and angry at the guy’s rudeness, Jun feels the thrill of the ride already. He will enjoy leaving Kamenashi in the dust. He and Akiyama will love showing off his detective skills and get to the killer first, win the girl and all the glory. They will enjoy seeing their rival’s sour face, hear his yell of frustration as he comes in second.  
This entertaining setting does have a very appropriate name. It is indeed all a game. A game in which Matsumoto Jun is an expert. Every single day, he faces it, and this time, Jun is actually going to enjoy every minute.

*

The manager watches with curious eyes as the actor in front of him paces back and forth over the worn floor. He wonders if Matsumoto will wear the wood down soon, digging a circle under his constant trampling. His employer is focused to the point of being in another world entirely. Aiba Masaki finds it strangely fascinating, watching him being so consumed with the role and the script; he is thrilled by the fact that the man and the rest of the drama crew has accepted this script so easily, each fallen into their given roles, their blueprints. Either the human race is incredibly naïve, or his master is a genius.  
He grins.  
And supposes it depends on the point of view.  
There is a constant mumbling in the room, coming from Matsumoto, but aside from that, things are fairly quiet. Before the kick-off. In a minute, a staff member will come in to get the actor, and filming will continue. So far, everything is going according to schedule, the first couple of scenes are wrapped up, and the meeting between Akiyama Ryou and Fujita Gin will soon take place: The opposing agent from another office will show up in Akiyama’s bureau out of the blue, and when Ryou returns from getting a reprimand from his superior, he will find the man flirting with Mizuhara’s character. Akiyama will already be riled up, seeing as he has not even managed to see the tail of their killer at that point. And he will be frustrated, because three lives have already been lost. At this first showdown, the spark will go off between the two agents. A spark of rivalry, of jealousy and pride.  
Man, Aiba has to give it to them, humans have an extraordinary imagination.  
  
Matsumoto suddenly stops and coughs once, twice and blinks a couple of times in confusion,  
“You ok?” Aiba says, his voice oddly loud in the room.  
The actor looks up, confusion all over his face. But that is probably mostly because of how he has been ripped out of the alternate world in his mind. And things were going so well. Now he has to start over,  
“What? Oh, yeah, I am okay. Don’t worry, Aiba-san,”  
“Take care of yourself. We don’t want you to catch a cold.”  
Jun raises an eyebrow. Cold? Maybe he is imagining it, but he has never heard Aiba so serious before. It is almost a little creepy how grave his voice sounded. Matsumoto shakes his head. He is still a little unaware of his real surroundings, that is it. Or he is imagining things. _Tsh._ If he is catching a cold now, he will murder something. Ignoring the odd pain in his chest, he continues practicing his lines, until Takashi-san comes to get him.  
  
*  
  
_And so, he descends upon the earth, he comes forth, transforms to blend in amongst the mortal beings who crowd this wretched world. In front of him, the view he has looked down upon from his throne takes shape, becomes more than a mere picture, more than a glance, an impression; there are smells, sounds, tastes on his tongue that he had long forgotten. The experience would have been overwhelming, had he not been what he is, what he was before. In truth, he feels nothing. His eyes change colour, his wings shed like dead skin - like a snake’s slough, new colours appear all over him, and he becomes human once again. Choosing this way for a purpose. Which he with powerful steps moves towards._  
  
_He still is not sure what exactly has made him choose this, what it is within him that has changed. But he recognizes the long lost emotion of jealousy – this prey is his, and his alone. There is no way he will ever share Jun with anyone. No other creature shall lay hands on him. Especially not an ugly human. For the first time in his very long life, the Angel of Death wants to possess not only a human’s soul, but their body too – wants to claim the man, and consume all of him._  
  
  
  
*  
  
  
  
A certain emotion creeps its way into the reaper’s non-existent heart as he watches the spectacle in front of him. With the staff running back and forth, fetching equipment and cameras for the filming, props for the scene and forgotten manuscripts, with people shouting at one another, there is a constant bustling around him. No one pays him any mind, does not even question his presence.  
What is it he is feeling? What is this dark, unwelcome surge inside of him? Isolation? Loneliness?  
Yes, that is it. That is it…  
He needs to beware of the changes his travelling to earth will bring, the effects the world now has on him. He will no longer be immune to every disease, neither the ones of the body nor the ones of the mind.  
The reaper closes his eyes and his disappearance is as sudden as his arrival.


	4. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**  
  
The cameras are rolling, and his breathing is laboured. He does not know who he is going to see in less than two minutes, whose face he should be prepared to stare straight into, gun between piercing eyes.  
Kamenashi is behind him, both men bound to their roles as agents, when they enter the big warehouse which the crew has rented for the special occasion of filming this very important scene. It is crucial that they get this shot in one take. The scene where they, both their roles and their real selves, for the first time, will come face to face with the killer, the villain of the story.  
Jun’s heart is beating wildly in his chest, he is anxious inside Ryou’s head, muscles drawn tight, palms sweaty around the handle of his black gun. This whole setup is a stroke of brilliance from the director, a completely original idea he has invented in cooperation with the scriptwriter. No one but the director knows how the villain looks.  
The two agents have been chasing the killer for weeks, and _finally_ they have made it here, to this desolate place, certain that _this time_ , they are going to be right about their hunches, having finally outwitted and avoided the criminal’s intricate mind games.  
Ryou takes a deep breath and moves around a huge container, taking great care when he pokes his head around the corner to scout, lithe body twisting against the cold metal at his back. Nothing.  
He then turns back to tell Fujita that all is good, everything clear,  
“Clea-” and stops dead.  
Gin is not there, Ryou cannot see him anywhere, there is no one behind him and his pulse immediately increases. Something has gone wrong, where is he? What is the idiot thinking? Is this part of the plan? Part of the script? Jun feels himself falling out of the role, losing his composure as he starts to panic. What is this? Then, quickly, the rational side of his mind tells him to believe in the director, and he stops panicking, slows down his train of thought. This is most likely another secret idea, another test of Matsumoto’s mind and skills, and he should go along with it. There has been no yell of ‘cut!’, no one behind the cameras telling him to stop. If he starts to look like a deer in headlights now, everything will have to be redone, and he will forever be known as unprofessional, inflexible, and sceptical. Kamenashi would never shut up about it.  
So he decides to trust the director, trust his own gut and continue by himself, only Ryou. Ryou would be thrilled about that anyway,  
“Jesus Christ-” he mutters to himself, and turns back to scan the vast area ahead of him again, to pick up where he left off.  
Two frighteningly black orbs are staring directly at him, a mere two centimetres from his face. He gasps.  
Stumbles back a step, while bringing up his gun in surprise, in terror, an instant and maybe quite irrational reaction. But one can never be too sure. The man in front of him chuckles and leans back up, his hands buried in the pockets of his black slacks,  
“Jumpy are we? Chill there junior, don’t hurt yourself, or heads will roll.” His voice is deep and smooth, slick, spreading warmth to Jun’s cheeks.  
“Who are you?! Identify yourself!” Ryou demands, fighting to appear somewhat professional, though he knows deep down that he has already lost control of the situation. He does not lower his gun, even though the unknown man has moved to a less threatening distance.  
There is something cryptic about this person in front of him, with the way he arrogantly stares Ryou down, looking completely unfazed despite being out in the open like this, with a gun muzzle aimed straight at his face. His hair is a jet-black undercut, his body lean, and with the tight, black shirt he is wearing, the muscles of his chest and abdomen are sharp underneath the fabric. Ryou cannot see a weapon on him.  
The stranger furrows his wicked-looking eyebrows,  
“My, how rude. Such a demeanour when you haven’t even introduced yourself. No matter,” he shrugs, and Ryou takes note of the sharp angle of his shoulders, “I know who you are, so don’t bother. I guess I _could_ tell you who I am, but you may already know, don’t you? Ryou-kun?” Ryou is clearly being mocked as the stranger switches between a dark, foreboding voice and the light, haughty tone. He already sounds completely lunatic, and Jun is personally offended by the suffix he adds to Ryou’s name. A snarl escapes him, and his finger tightens around the trigger,  
“You are Chess,” Ryou states, knowing he is right, “Watch it, I swear, I _will_ put a bullet through your skull.”  
A cute pout forms out of nowhere on the stranger’s handsome face, and Jun is slightly taken aback. He cannot decide whether this ruins the man’s previous appearance or just makes him all the creepier,  
“Chess? Am I only a _chess-player_? Naw, I was hoping for a cooler name, like… The King. Oh, or better: _God_.” At this, he goes as far as to grin widely, his eyebrows moving downwards.  
Jun cannot help but feel insanely impressed by this actor, one would honestly believe he is insane with that evil smile on his face.  
_Man, Jun is so out of his league._  
  
*  
  
Seconds of silent stare-down between them is allowed until Jun feels _snapped_ out of Ryou’s state of mind by the director’s long-awaited yell of ‘cut!’. Instantly, Jun drops his gun and guard, letting air – he did not realise he had held – finally escape his lungs, though his eyes remain on the man in front of him, curious, while he raises one hand from his pocket to scratch the back of his head, a gesture which probably should express his embarrassment at the situation. The director rushes to them before Matsumoto gets the chance to ask any questions,  
“Everyone, I want you to meet our villain,” he announces in his booming voice, and everyone stops what they are doing, “This is Sakurai Sho, and he will be working with us starting from today. Personally, I am very honoured to have him here with us, so please keep him in your favour.”  
Matsumoto opts to imitate the staff and actors around him in their clapping while Sakurai bows politely, a soft smile on his face. Jun is slightly stunned at the sight, surprised at this entirely different person standing before him, a complete contradiction to the killer he faced seconds ago.  
The director introduces Sakurai as if the actor is someone all of them ought to recognize, but Jun swears he has never laid eyes on him before. And he definitely would have remembered someone that stunning.  
Jun _cannot_ tear his eyes away.  
Then Sakurai turns towards him,  
“I am sorry I took you off guard like that, Matsumoto-san,” Jun notices how withdrawn his smile is when he offers his hand, all business, no pleasure, “I look forward to working with you.”  
A shiver curiously runs down Jun’s spine when their hands touch, and he is left staring after the man when Sakurai leaves him with a bow and a rush in his step.  
There will be a ten-minute break before they continue with the next scene, and now is apparently not the time for Matsumoto to get to know the other actor. In the grimmer part of his mind, he wonders whether he will _ever_ get to know him. The man practically reeks of mystery. Which just makes Jun want to know even more while Matsumoto wonders what tricks he would have to use to win such a man over.  
Kamenashi appears at his side with a snort, “Wow, what an introduction that guy received. Man, why didn’t they announce my presence on set like that? I am at least as great as him.” He tsks again, and Jun listens only half-heartedly, thoughts on way more important matters, “Jeez, I have never even seen him before.”  
Kamenashi annoys Jun, but he does voice out Jun’s concerns. Though, he wonders why Kame would tell him all of this as if Matsumoto would just agree with him. He turns towards the other man, with a stoic inclining of his head,  
“And how does that feel, Kamenashi-san? Someone you didn’t even know existed getting more praise and credit than you?” Matsumoto pouts mockingly, “Aww, don’t look so down. I am sure you will get your chance against Sakurai-san too.”  
As he walks past him, Matsumoto pats the other actor’s shoulder, face breaking into a grin. Yeah right.  
If those two ever went head to head, Kamenashi would eat the dust. Ok, admittedly, Jun does not know _anything_ about this Sakurai Sho, but what he does know is that when the men went up all close and into his face, Jun could _feel_ the malice, the desire to dominate, vibrate from every fibre of Sakurai’s body; he could see the spark in his dark eyes. And he knows that there is no way Kamenashi can mirror that. Hell, Matsumoto even admits that he, himself, cannot even hope to match it.  
That is how good this unknown actor is.  
  
Kamenashi gets to wait a take or two before he can feel Sakurai’s acting on his own skin. Until then, there are more takes of Ryou’s stunned face and Chess’ mocking grin. And Sakurai makes it all look like a dance. He circles around Ryou, puts on a show, completely unintimidated by the weapon in the agent’s hand, pokes and prods at his defences, his past, his pride, and it is so much that even Jun stirs in Ryou’s body when the killer walks right into his personal space to whisper in his ear,  
“So what happens when I win, Ryou-kun? Maybe I’ll turn you into a pawn. Hmm… Or maybe you’d even quality for a runner. Or a tower,” he laughs and spins around on his heels.  
And just as it darkens at the corners of Ryou’s vision, just as he opens his mouth to tell the man to _shut up!_ , tightening his finger on the trigger again, the criminal emerges behind him, and he feels a gun pushed right up against the back of his head,  
“Ok. Now I am bored. No more games. Check-mate, Akiyama-san.”  
A violent chill runs down his spine, forcing Ryou to close his eyes briefly. The gun is hard, unyielding at his skull, and as a contrast to his previous jests, the killer’s voice is ice-cold. Clearly, no more games. There’s cold sweat on Ryou’s brow and he is biting his lip. He is terrified, and Jun loves it.  
“As much as I enjoy toying with you, I would prefer not to have any agents on my heels. So, I am sorry Ryou-kun, but you will have to go.”  
Had Jun not known the script for this scene, he would probably have been close to believing that Sakurai could blow his head off, because he sure sounds like that is _exactly_ what he is planning, like there is nothing he would rather do. That is until-.  
The pressure of the gun suddenly disappears, and he thinks he is imagining things, why would Chess change his mind?  
He would not.  
When Ryou turns to check, he stares straight down the barrel of the gun and ok, maybe he would rather get shot in the _back_ of his head, where he at least cannot see his own blood.  
Chess is holding up two guns; black one pointed at Ryou, a white one aimed at a target further away. Ryou has an inkling feeling as to why he is not lying dead on the cement floor in a pool of his own blood, even before he daringly moves his head to peek at what the criminal’s eyes are locked on, before that feeling is validated. Gin stands about eight metres away, weapon pointed at Chess. The agent did not make a sound, and _still_ , the killer discovered him before he was even remotely close enough to be a threat. How? Ryou cannot believe this guy. The two agents are not outnumbered, but there is no way their combined wits can beat this guy. Not by a long shot.  
The man in front of him sighs,  
“ _Two_ of you? Why must I _always_ get disturbed when I am being awesome? Typical. Oh, and you are not going anywhere, Ryou-kun.”  
He does not find the need to turn to Ryou when he warns him, but that does not make it less of a treat. Ryou can see the insecurity in Gin’s eyes from here, the hesitation and various plans, tactics, turned and turned again in his head while he fails to find a solution, he can see how the other agent does not hold an answer to this situation either. This is bad.  
Swallowing a lump in his throat, knowing there is no other option, Ryou slowly raises his gun towards the killer again…  
“CUT!”  
  
*  
  
Matsumoto is handed a bottle of water during their break, along with a small towel he uses to wipe the sweat off his forehead, while he sneaks a glance at Sakurai. Again.  
It is only their first day, but Jun finds that he unable to avert his stare. Not only is the other actor more than good-looking, but the fact that he does not seem fazed by Matsumoto’s acting – fazed by anything at all actually – confuses and intrigues Jun to no end.  
Only due to his oblivious staring, does Jun manage to catch Sakurai making his way over to Kamenashi’s side. Jun can feel the slight envy; hurt over the fact that the interesting man playing the criminal would evidently rather converse with Kamenashi than he would with Matsumoto. Jun does not even try to hide the fact that he is eyeing their interaction, despite the bitterness rising in his throat. Sakurai’s back is facing Matsumoto, so it is only Kamenashi’s curious expression he can watch as Sakurai speaks to him in a quiet voice. Kame widens his eyes suddenly, before his stare flicker over Sakurai’s shoulder towards Matsumoto, for just a very quick moment. Jun could have missed it. And then as Kamenashi looks stunned, Jun finds himself wondering what it is he can see in the man’s brown eyes. Suspicion? Anxiety? Fear even?  
Jun is standing completely still, mid-act, towel awkwardly held between his hands, when Sakurai proceeds to walk in a half circle around Kamenashi, changing their positions. So Jun can see the crooked grin on Sakurai’s lips. He does not know what to make of it.  
He does not get a chance either, because Matsumoto’s stylist pops up behind him, comb in hand, question-marks in her eyes.  
“Matsumoto-san? Can I get you to sit down for me?”  
Jun does not want to, he would rather catch more of the muted conversation between Sakurai and Kamenashi, but he does not have much of a choice. Reluctantly, he throws one last glance at the two before sitting down in the chair provided for him. A tall mirror has been carried in on set, so that Matsumoto is not forced to return to his greenroom every time they take a 5 to 10-minute break.  
He tries to forget his curiosity for a minute and recites his next lines in his head. The next shot will not include Chess, since they are leaving the last scene with no clear conclusion, open for the viewers to interpret, at least for this episode.  
Jun drops his eyes to his lap for a brief second as the stylist starts pulling at his black locks, restyling his hair, and when he raises his gaze towards the mirror again, he meets Sakurai’s intense stare in the glass. A gasp almost escapes Jun. The man is looking over Kamenashi’s shoulder, _straight_ at Jun, eyes dark and penetrating, and Jun suddenly finds himself hot and burning in his skin. His reflection draws in a sharp breath when Sakurai smiles at him, a queer pulling at those beautiful, full lips of his. And Jun has no idea what emotions lie behind that expression. He wants to linger to find out, keep holding onto the dark stare instead of giving into the childish urge to turn his eyes away, ashamed to be caught looking. He succeeds for 5 seconds.  
Before he is seized by a sudden, violent coughing fit.  
  
  
*  
  
  
_Sakurai is gripping the armrests of the chair until his knuckles turn white, and veins threaten to pop out from under his skin.  
He does not believe his eyes, what he sees and hears. He does not know what to do with what he is witness to, how to react. His brain is in scrambles as he watches how Jun’s long fingers are wrapped tightly around his erect cock, how the man starts slow, moving his hand almost gracefully under the water, before Jun gasps. The sound is loud in Sakurai’s ears, an echo travelling through his artificial body before it resides between his legs. He has to bite his lip, his whole body drawn tight, every single nerve drawn out like an elastic band. He could choose not to watch this, to turn his gaze elsewhere, to another poor soul destined to die, but he cannot.  
Sakurai swallows, the ringing in his ears growing louder and he cannot tear his eyes away from the human. Why is the man doing this? What is he thinking? What is he imagining? Who does he see there with him as he suddenly moans loudly, one of his slender fingers vanishing past his balls, deeper into the water, into his hole. Sakurai wants to know, he wants to hear the man’s thoughts, he wants to see what he is thinking. But he cannot, and it angers him to no end. It is not enough that he can watch him like this, it is not enough that Sho can walk no more than a few meters from him in a role which he has been given as Matsumoto Jun’s opponent, it is not enough that Sho has warned Kamenashi to stay away from Jun or he _ will rip _his head from his shoulders and_ tear _him apart limp by limp, while the blood splatters the floor and the walls of the set, and everyone watches.  
Death wonders if it will ever be enough. He wants to take and take and take and take.  
Jun’s body is writhing under the hot water, steam rising up the walls and covering the big mirror and the windows in soft, grey mist. His skin looks soft, his muscles strong as they tighten every time he moves his hand up and down, in and out. Not only are his biceps flexing, but as he moves his shoulders, the shoulder blades shift like rising planes on his back, and Sakurai finds himself wishing he was right in front of Jun, eyes hot and wanting, never leaving his lithe form until Jun finishes.  
That is when Sakurai realizes the ringing in his ears is his own throat vibrating in a growl, increasing in strength and volume. He did not realize earlier how he leaned forward in his chair, how one of his hands grew claws that are now digging into the soft flesh of his right thigh. There is blood running down his shins, pooling at his bare feet.  
And as Jun throws his head back, pure pleasure all over his exquisite features, exposing his fine, white throat, and a high moan escapes his mouth, the sound is so loud in Sho’s ears that it even drowns out his growl. While white, half-transparent liquid rise to the surface in front of Jun, come drips down and mixes with the blood at Sho’s feet._  
  
*  
  
There is something missing on set for the following couple of days. Jun has noticed, but refuses to acknowledge it, so it is actually Aiba who points it out, smearing it in his face,  
“Hmm, it only seems half as fun here without that Sakurai around, does it not, Matsumoto-kun?”  
Matsumoto just grumbles back, staring at his sour looking face in the mirror. If he had to choose a favourite character in this drama, it certainly would not be his own character Ryou. He has to step up his game for real if he wants as strong a character as Sakurai’s Chess.  
“I mean, not that I mind Kiko-chan’s company, or the stare-downs between you and Kamenashi-kun, but you have to admit he did leave quite an impression, right?”  
Jun has to agree. He agrees too much. Because he just cannot get those black eyes out of his head. Every time he closes his eyes, he sees the man, sees his smirk, feels his dark aura, and he feels enveloped even if Sakurai is not present.  
Yesterday night, it was still Sakurai’s piercing stare he imagined all over his body when he was having a well-deserved soak in his bathtub at home, and his hand found its way to his half-hard erection in the water. And it was Sakurai’s deep, rough voice which rung in his ears when he stroked himself too fast and too hard. And when he closed his eyes and took the fantasy further, when he imagined how it would feel to have Sakurai’s hands clawing at the back of his thighs, pulling him roughly against him, his other hand slid past his cock to find his hole. That night, for the first time in years, Jun felt crazy desire control his actions, and he fucked himself with his fingers until he reached the edge and his moans filled the bathroom, red stars blinding him from behind his eyelids.  
Jun tries to push what he did to the back of his mind, partly because he cannot believe himself, partly because he is slightly intimidated by his own emotions, his desires. For all these years, he has felt devoid of any real interest in other people, much less in love, and now incidents seem to happen in quick succession, incidents which _push_ him for emotional reactions, pulling him close to an edge he, until recently, was not even sure existed. And now, this Sakurai person has appeared out nowhere – hell Jun knows _nothing_ about him – surprising everyone around him with his presence. Jun does not know what he imagined when he was robbed of any warning before the other actor appeared, but it certainly was not an undeniable desire to be with said person, to feel him, to have him hold Jun and to have him _tear_ through Jun’s chest and take Jun’s heart into an agonizing hold. Jun wonders if he is the only one feeling this way. Or if Sakurai manages to mesmerize others too. His thoughts wander back to the sight of Sakurai and Kamenashi talking, standing so close that Jun felt left out and jealous. Seeing how they whispered to one another made it all the more suspicious. Until Sakurai raised his eyes and looked straight at Jun.  
Jun shivers and shakes his head, though it is no use trying to forget the actor’s burning eyes.  
“Matsumoto-san, we need you in ten!”  
An AD pops his head into Matsumoto’s green room, and the actor raises a hand, signals that he has heard the man, before looking back into the mirror. At least he will be more in control today while acting, with no one to put him off balance.  
“Come on, Aiba-san, let’s get today wrapped up fast.” He gets up and grabs his jacket from the chair beside him, making his way towards the door.  
He does not need to look back to make sure his manager follows him.  
  
Kiko appears at his elbow after filming,  
“We’re all going for drinks afterwards. Would you like to join us?”  
Her smile is catching and Jun finds himself actually wanting to go. Kiko is so natural and bubbly. Without a need to impress and charm everyone, she is one of the few women Jun has found himself enjoying the company of. It makes co-starring so much more enjoyable too.  
“I wouldn’t mind. Meet you in half an hour?”  
She grins back at him and jumps a little in excitement over his agreement,  
“Yes! See you in a bit then, Matsumoto-san.” With a charming little wave she whisks away, and Jun finds himself genuinely smiling. It is not often he meets such modest people as the ones he has met on set for this particular drama. Aside from Kamenashi, everyone is pleasant. Well, counting out the villain – Sakurai. Jun still does not know which category to place that man in.  
  
*  
  
“And then I said: ‘But Kamamura-san, are you sure the guy is famous, I have never seen him before!’”  
Most of the others laugh at what Shigeaki says. Probably because most of them agrees. Jun bites the inside of his lip, twirling the glass of sake in his hand. He cannot claim not to have been wondering the same thing, but to go as far as to utter it out loud here. Is that not rude?  
“Kamamura-san usually knows what he is doing. He is famous for his talent of seeing potential in actors, for quickly understanding who will fit a role, and do it justice. I am sure he has his reasons for choosing Sakurai-san as Chess. And so far, haven’t we all been really impressed with his acting? I mean, the man never needs more than one take!” Kiko tells them.  
The muttering afterwards is but a hum to Jun’s ears. This is a stupid, pointless discussion. Gossip is boring. Only boring people gossip. Why did he agree to join anyway?  
Kamenashi, who is sitting beside him, elbows him in the ribs, effectively making Jun lose his track of thought,  
“That is true, but I discussed the same thing with Matsumoto-kun. How come Sakurai is supposedly so _famous_ , when none of us have heard of him? Ever? I mean, what can he even do besides looking mean?” Kamenashi laughs and Matsumoto’s eyebrow twitches in annoyance. Since when did the two of them discuss _anything_?  
He cannot ignore this. Straightening his back, he turns to stare Kamenashi directly in the face,  
“You are only saying that, because you cannot act your own way around a dark room, Kamenashi- _kun_ ,” he mocks, and instantly Kamenashi’s face falls, “I bet you wish you’d gotten the role of Chess. Envy does not suit you.”  
Oookay, maybe he is not one to talk. But that is a completely different matter.  
Matsumoto empties his glass, looking at every single face around the table, now staring at him. He grins.  
“And who’s saying I did not want that role? Anyone would want to twart your face in a drama, Matsumoto,” Kamenashi pipes back rather pathetically, and Matsumoto is amused at how easily he can rile the other man up. Jeez, the actor is too competitive. Not that Jun’s own competitiveness cannot easily match his.  
Matsumoto cocks an eyebrow, “But there are only a few you can~”  
A few people around the table chuckles at Matsumoto’s singsong voice, only urging him on,  
“Sakurai-san has nailed _every single one_ of his lines. So I don’t think any of you should speak badly about him. I reckon you should rather try and catch up.”  
“You sound like you’re in love, Matsumoto-kun,” Kamenashi tells him, and the tipsy people whistle.  
Despite the display of rolling eyes, Matsumoto puts on, the expression is followed by another quick line of: “Anyone would fall in love with that acting, don’t lie, Kame.”  
Jun feels the heat rise to his cheeks. Love is a big word, but he would definitely be lying should he claim not being attracted to Sakurai. No way he would let Kamenashi know that of course, so he is thankful everyone around the table is a bit flushed, thanks to the alcohol.  
“We should invite Sakurai-san next time,” Kiko suggests, always the supporter, and though everyone looks at her hesitantly, Shigeaki – the one to start this whole conversation – agrees:  
“Sure, I’d love to see how well he holds his liquor. Or whether he is as scary off set as on it. Man, that would be entertaining. Maybe he can even teach us a thing or two!”  
His eyes sparkle as he looks at Matsumoto, expectantly, and the other actor cannot help but smile sheepishly – at least he can count on Shige now.  
Though Jun notices Kamenashi’s exaggerated tsk beside him, he chooses just to ignore him.  
No one likes a sore loser.

*

Three days pass, and Sakurai is required on set again. Yesterday night, Jun found himself unable to sleep, expectations and fantasies about tonight’s events twirling around in his head, despite not knowing if Sakurai will agree to go out with them at all. As he sneaks a peak at Sakurai while the man waits for people to finish setting up the scene, Jun wonders whether Sakurai even _wants_ to join them. Jun has not seen him interact much with anyone on set.  
Aiba arrives at his side,  
“So, ready for today’s filming, MatsuJun?”  
He is as energetic as ever despite the early hour.  
Matsumoto just nods at him, arms crossed. He is trying to get into Ryou’s mind; he needs to be in character in less than five minutes. The stakes are high today, so he does not want to mess up a single line. With what Sakurai brings along to set, everyone has started to really step up their game. No one, including Jun, has acted that well before Sakurai entered the stage. The thought brings a slight smile to Jun’s lips. Who could have known?  
As soon as the director signals for him, Matsumoto walks past the cameras and into the shot. In this scene, Ryou is once more confronted by Chess’ superiority. Due to a tip, he ends up in a bar in the darkest district of the city, keeping an eye on Chess as soon as he finds him. But his undercover mission fails as he follows Chess into an alley, and finds himself oddly dizzy – drugged – immediately realizing that Chess has played him all night for them to end up in this exact spot.  
Yesterday, they shot Ryou’s scene in the bar; how he flirted slightly with one of the serving girls, how he communicated with Kiko’s character Rin, who acted undercover as bartender, how he had a few drinks, and how he always made sure he knew exactly where Chess was, never leaving him out of his sight. With his attention solely focused on Chess, he failed to realize what had been put in one of his drinks. He failed to consider the influence Chess has in this particular dark area.  
They will now be shooting the alley scene.  
Sakurai suddenly steps up to him,  
“I have been looking forward to our filming today,” he tells Matsumoto, an unreadable smile tugging at his plush lips as their eyes meet, “Let us do our best to make it a wrap, shall we?”  
Maybe it is only due to the fact that Jun is so tuned in on him that he notices, but the way Sakurai speaks to him, how he chooses his words makes Jun curious as to whether he means what he says or if he is just being polite. Despite what he may try to convey, Jun feels as if he is being mocked – as if the whole setting is an amusement to Sakurai. And he wonders why. Why would all of this appear funny to the other actor? Is there something on Matsumoto’s face? But instead of acting offended – which there is no clear basis for – Matsumoto smiles back at the man, mirrors his small bow towards him, letting his eyes flitter over Sakurai’s smooth features, trying to find some crack in the mask, which he suddenly suspects is there. Sakurai is wearing a black coat, black tight jeans and boots, and his hair is styled to wave messily over his brow which makes him look both dark and elegant. Jun already feels a little intimidated, but also more than willing to fight this person that Sakurai is about to portray.  
As they are waiting for the crew to get ready, they stand there beside each other in their coats – Jun’s being an oversized plush jacket which he will be taking off as soon as they begin, underneath wearing a leatherjacket which is not doing much to protect him from the cold weather – and Jun finds himself all embarrassed when Sakurai smiles softly the moment he catches his glance again. That the actor can look less than intimidating somewhat startles him.  
   
Jun does not remember when the director yelled “action!”, he does not remember how and when he got into his role, he just remembers how the darkness envelops him, how the sound of the superficial rain fills his ears and how it feels when his shoes get wetted in the small puddles of water in the alley. He does not remember when there was only him and the increasingly dark walls and the eerie silence, or when he no longer was Matsumoto Jun, but Ryou Akiyama. It is not just a game when Sakurai’s husky voice is by his ear, whispering so venomously that a chill runs down his spine,  
“Luring you in seems easier than I suspected.”  
It is an entirely separate world from the one he was in before.  
“Tell me, Ryou-kun, did you seriously never suspect this to happen? Not even once?” Chess chuckles, mean-spirited, “I am almost disappointed. I honestly expected some competition.”  
Jun is not sure he is supposed to feel this way, he does not know whether the director intentionally planned for the mood in this scene to be both dark, dangerous, and _erotic_. Sakurai’s breath is sticky on his cheek as he circles around Jun, fingering the agent’s gun and pointing it straight at Jun’s head. Which agent is stupid enough to let it get stolen out of his waistband, just like that? But Ryou is too drugged to solve any kind of riddles, solely trying to remain standing on his own two legs, fighting to follow Chess with his eyes.  
“Now that I have you here…” Jun’s breath hitches in his throat when Sakurai’s face ends up inches from his. He can smell the other man’s breath, feel the heat of his skin, and this close, Sakurai is lethally beautiful, “What should I do with you?” The words echo in Jun’s ears, brings images from his fantasies to the very front of his mind. As Chess mocks Ryou and stares into Jun’s wide eyes, Jun tries his best to remember how to breathe, to keep the heat at his inner thighs from spreading any further. Ryou is having trouble staying conscious, swaying slightly forward, something Chess finds incredibly amusing as he steps back with a deep chuckle.  
“You will not get away with this,” Jun’s voice is a weak, broken whisper, and Sakurai instantly throws his head back and laughs hysterically.  
Jun’s blood runs cold, and in the next second he finds himself unable to breathe as Sakurai’s fingers lock around his throat and he is slammed into the nearest wall. Sakurai is so serious that Jun’s whelp of pain is true, his clawing at Sakurai’s hands is desperate, and his fighting for air is no act. As he looks into Sakurai’s ivory black, dilated pupils, Jun feels true fear and he is certain that this wretched, solitary place will be his grave,  
“And who is to stop me? Huh? Don’t tell me you would let someone else catch me? It will be _you_ , or no one.”

“CUT!”  
When Sakurai lets go, Jun instantly falls to his knees, hand reaching for his burning throat. He is not entirely sure what happened. He is dizzy and breathless and he is not sure he remembers how to stand. Returning to this world, the real world, takes him a few seconds, and when he finally looks up to search for the culprit of his state, Sakurai is nowhere to be seen.  
  
  
*  
  
  
“Shit. Shitshitshit.” Sho curses as he runs a hand over his hair, ruining the effort the stylists put into it. “This is getting out of hand.”  
Aiba fiddles nervously behind him, an action Sho can _feel_ over his skin, and he can hear the sound clearly when Aiba swallows,  
“As- as an advisor and Matsumoto Jun’s manager, I suggest you try and hold back a bit, Master-”  
“What do you think I am doing!?” Sho roars back at him, stopping right in front of Aiba’s face to stare him down. Sho takes a deep breath, “I _am_ holding back. But it is getting increasingly harder.”  
He whirls around to slam both hands on the table, bracing himself and trying to regain his wits, his breath. His first thought is to just kill Jun now and get it over with. But he knows if he kills him now, there will be no more interaction, no more talking to the man, no more threats, no more staring into his eyes, no more _heat_. And Sho is too selfish to bring himself to let that go. Not yet, he tells himself. He is _nowhere_ close enough.  
  
*  
  
Jun is gasping for breath with his arms raised behind his head. Aiba is not present, so he is struggling by himself to stop the coughing fits and the pressure he feels in his chest. He is in pain.  
And at this point, he hopes it is just the result of a stressful shooting and a cold approaching.

*

Matsumoto declines the invitation for drinks. He does not know whether Sakurai agreed or not, but his emotions are way too jumbled for him to go anywhere but home to his quiet apartment. The last scene today made him question which part of him is fictional and which part is real. He still cannot remember when he slipped into the role, when Sakurai did the same. And what he felt during that scene; the dizziness, the breathlessness, the cold and heat and arousal, he does not know what was real. Because even now, he feels that clenching in his chest when he thinks of what happened, what Sakurai said, how he looked at Jun.  
Jun cannot get the realisation out of his head that, the second Sakurai stepped onto the set, Matsumoto was no longer the Matsumoto he had been until then – even from the moment Sakurai surprisingly appeared in the warehouse, Jun has struggled to be anyone but… Just Jun.  
He sits down on his couch, and after the first gulp of alcohol burning his tongue, Jun realizes it is because this man, this Sakurai Sho, has an ability. The same ability he has seen the man inflict on all the other actors on set: He forces them into their roles, into their characters and into the fictional world. And in Jun’s case, Matsumoto is not the actor, not really – Jun is – and thus, Matsumoto is nowhere to be found in the world which Sakurai enables them all to create, almost creates _for_ them.  
In the dark, solitary confinement of his living room, Jun finds himself smiling.  
Sakurai must be truly gifted.  
  
*  
  
“Thank you for your hard work!”  
Shigeaki is bowing while people around him clap, and he is handed a bouquet of flowers from one of the ADs. Matsumoto is cheering along with them, nodding at Shigeaki when the younger man turns to beam at him. Shigeaki has just shot his last scene: One of the turning points in the drama in which Ryou’s colleague and friend is killed by Chess. With his friend’s sacrifice, Ryou’s resolve will strengthen and he will finally be able to catch Chess and bring him in for interrogation – the scene which they will start filming after a short break.  
Matsumoto has been watching the previous scene with critical eyes, and the conclusion he drew last night was proven quite solid as he watched how Sakurai acted with Shigeaki. It only required two takes before the director claimed it a wrap.  
As Shige jokes about the fake blood on his forehead, showing how it smears on his fingers, Sakurai steps up to him and pats his shoulder. Jun notices the smile Sakurai aims at the young actor, how they exchange a few words before Sakurai leaves him and walks towards where Matsumoto is standing behind the cameras. The set needs to be cleaned up before they can move on to the next take, and Sakurai has to change clothes and fix his makeup before people finish removing the old props and bringing in the new. As he walks past Matsumoto, fake blood on his hands and face, Sakurai catches him staring and smirks curiously before giving Matsumoto a brief nod. Jun feels his face reddening and turns his head sideways in case some of the others on set saw that exchange. How a mere glance from the other actor can make his heart jump is still such a surprise to Jun, it is a whole new sensation. Burying his hands in his jeans pockets, he closely watches as crew members run back and forth with props and lighting, rushing to get the set in order. When Matsumoto walks past the cardboard wall to the makeshift interrogation room, a makeup artist comes running up to him and starts poking at his hair, changing this and that, spiking it up and down and adding more makeup to his cheeks. Matsumoto just stands still, sending her a cheeky smile to which she blushes and looks down. She does not speak, but then again, Jun does not want her to.  
“Matsumoto-san.” The director walks up to him, making the girl shuffle away, “For the next scene, I want Ryou to be more aggressive, more dominant, more _at_ it than he has been up until now. Previously, he has been intimidated by Chess, he has been outwitted every single time, but this is a turning point: I want the roles to be seemingly reversed. Ryou has finally caught this bastard, and it makes him feel powerful again. But under that act, he is mourning for his friend. I want you to bring all of that together. Understand?”  
The director holds the script tightly rolled up in his hand. Is he even able to read the words on that thing? After how much he tightens it this way and that way in excitement during filming, the paper must be pretty much ruined. He is also very expectant of this scene, Matsumoto suspects,  
“I understand. I will do my best.”  
“Of course you will,” Kamamura claps his shoulder, “I can always count on you to do a good job, Matsumoto-san.”  
“No, no, you give me too much credit.” Matsumoto answers humbly and mirrors the director’s smile.  
“I have high expectations for this scene with you and Sakurai-san, you know,” the director continues, and Matsumoto’s smile falters a bit due to the serious tone, “You are the best actors on set, and I have certainly not been disappointed until now. But it will be interesting to see how you create a more confident Ryou.”  
With the last comment, he nods once more at Matsumoto before moving over to give directions to how he wants the lighting for the scene. Matsumoto follows him with his eyes as he leaves. He too, is very excited about this particular take. How will it feel to have the upper hand over Sakurai’s role? How will Sakurai construct Chess’ character under those circumstances? Jun’s anticipation is building, sending waves of pleasant chills down his spine.  
“Those were some high expectations he presented there,”  
Matsumoto whirls around at the words uttered right behind him and finds himself almost bumping noses with Sakurai. He takes a step back to regain his composure – he sure did not expect Sakurai to stand that close. The other actor smirks at him, amused.  
“We better not disappoint him, then,” Sakurai continues, though he does not seem particularly anxious about the whole situation, hands in the pockets of his loose black pants. He tilts his head at Matsumoto, eyes scrutinizing, and Jun suddenly feels naked. Then Sakurai’s smile vanishes, his voice darker when he says: “Show me what you’ve got, Matsumoto-san.” And then he smiles again, and Jun feels all dizzy. Sakurai sure knows how to make him feel dizzy.  
An unforeseen rush of adrenaline rushes to his head, maybe as a reaction, and he finds himself just answering, not giving too much thought to the reply, and he grins back at the other actor, “You haven’t seen nothing yet, Sakurai, I’ll leave _you_ in the dust this time.”  
Sakurai seems slightly taken aback by Matsumoto’s cocky retort at first, but the following chuckle indicates his approval. Previously, Jun has probably been acting cold towards him, trying to pretend he was not affected by Sakurai’s presence, but it feels good to let the stiffness go and give the older actor a feistier response.  
“I cannot wait.” The spark in his dark eyes leaves Jun thrilled with his heart throbbing eagerly.  
It is not until Kame suddenly shows up and elbows him rather roughly in his ribs, that he realizes he is grinning way too widely, “You look kinda creepy there, MatsuJun, wipe off that grin will you. Ew.”  
Jun just gives him an eye roll before reluctantly leaving Sakurai’s side with one last glance thrown at him, their eyes meeting. A few minutes later, they all move into position. And the world turns again, leaving Jun with Sakurai, not in an imaginary setting, a makeshift room, but in the same reality as the one Jun has time and time again found himself in during these takes with the other actor.


	5. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**  
  
The room is bathed in a cold, grey light that casts black shadows over the killer’s face, making his cheekbones look sharper, his eyes darker, and if Ryou had not been so consumed with wrath after the killing of his friend, he would have found that Chess looks more intimidating than ever. The man appears cold and emotionless, sitting completely still, only following Ryou with his burning eyes.  
Ryou takes a deep breath, trying his best to be patient, slowly bending forward to place his palms on the steel table, “Tell me how far your webs of influence are cast, tell me whom you are working with, tell me what your plans are.” He speaks low, trying his best to remain in control of his emotions, to rein in his anger and his wish to hurt this bastard, to get revenge for Shoutarou. But the man in front of him simply lifts his gaze slowly, as if it bores him to do so, craning his neck to look arrogantly back at Ryou, not in the least bit fazed, “That is a lot of questions at the same time, agent. Tell me what you wish for me to answer first, and I’ll decide whether I want to indulge you or not.”  
Ryou grinds his teeth and his hand prickles with the desire to hit the man.  
“You can start off by telling me who you are.” He says, voice deep.  
So far, they still have not been able to figure out Chess’ identity: Even a DNA test did not prove useful. The killer simply is not in the world register. He does not exist. Even so, here he is, right in front of Ryou’s eyes.  
Chess smirks, one side of his mouth stretching upwards in an amused expression,  
“But aren’t I just the Chess-player? As you so nicely named me.” He starts, and his eyes sparkle. If Ryou did not know better, he would say the guy is enjoying this, “Though I would have appreciated a better name. In my world, I am more than just a player.”  
 Ryou narrows his eyes, catching the hint.  
“I am the hand that moves the pawns, I am the guide, the one in control, the key, the plan, the end-game. Everything goes as I want it to go.” Chess tilts his head, and despite being offered the role of the inferior one, he sure is reluctant to take it. His usually styled hair lies across his forehead messily, his clothes are dirty, his hands cuffed to the chair, behind his back. As much as Ryou hates to admit it, he admires this guy. He seems so in control even now, and Ryou has no idea how to shake his ground. “And no offense agent, but there is nothing you can do to stop the game. Not until one of us wins-” He leans forward in the chair so fast that Ryou does not have time to move back before his face is inches from his. Before he can help it, his eyes flicker from Chess’ black eyes, to his full, moist lips, “Or _dies_.”  
It is a threat and Ryou’s hand moves before he can even think about it. He roughly grabs onto a fistful of Chess’ ivory, tousled hair and forces his head back in hopes of making it as painful as possible, while standing up to loom over him, and Ryou leans down, breathing into the criminal’s face, the heat of anger – is it only anger? – pulsing through his body.   
“What have you got planned?! Tell me!” he growls, but Chess just grins back at him, a curious pink settling on his cheeks and he remains silent.  
Ryou is shocked to discover what he feels about the look Chess is wearing now, flushed and amused and utterly unfazed. In his fury, in his lack of control over anything, Ryou lets go of Chess’ hair to let his hand fly through the air and collide with the criminal’s cheek in a backhanded slap which echoes in the empty room, leaving a dead silence to fall upon it afterwards. Ryou is panting hard, his hand shaking when he sees what damage it has done to the killer’s striking face. When Chess looks back up at him, there is blood on the side of his cracked lip, but what is truly horrifying is the anger in his eyes, two orbs of rock-hard obsidian. When his speaks again, his voice is a rough growl, rumbling deep in his throat,  
“You will come to regret doing that. I will crush you, Akiyama Ryou, I will-“  
Ryou hits him again, on the other side of his face this time, using so much force that his hand stings afterwards. Chess does not turn his head back again first thing, but instead spits on the floor, leaving a red stain. He draws in a breath through his teeth, hisses, as he stares back at Ryou.  
“Come again, what were you saying?” Ryou grinds out, clenching and unclenching his hand, ready to strike the criminal again.  
“You will regret bringing me in here,” Chess snarls, face contorted in anger, and Ryou feels a small victory at seeing how his superior act is crumbling at the edges, “I will make your end painful. More painful than you could _ever_ imagine.”  
His beautiful features are twisted, and Ryou can now truly see what he is on the inside,  
“Is that so?” he asks, his voice soft in comparison to Chess’.  
Ryou leans forward over the table again, letting his eyes flitter over Chess’ face: The way a thick lock of hair hides his left eye, how his plush lips bleed and how his shoulders are all tense. Ryou smiles. This snake wants nothing but to strike, but this time, he can’t.  
“I’d like to see how you will _end_ me from behind metal bars.” And Ryou finally takes a step away from the man, finally detaches himself and draws in a deep breath, “Because I swear, I will never let you out again.”  
  
*  
  
Jun hesitantly walks into the actor’s green room. The door is open, so he opts to knock softly, with two fingers, on the doorframe. Sakurai is sitting in the sofa in the middle of the room, dabbing at his lip with a soft, wet cloth and looks up at Matsumoto as he walks in. Jun feels just a bit bad about hurting him, about causing damage to his handsome face.  
“Nice one you landed there,” Sakurai comments and Jun winces slightly, despite Sakurai’s smile, “That hurt.”  
“I am sorry.” Jun says and means it. He would never even have dreamt of being so into a character that he could hurt another actor like that. And Sakurai least of all. Coming to a halt on the opposite side of the coffee table, in front of Sho, Jun fidgets slightly with the hem of his white T-shirt, while Sakurai looks expectantly up at him. Jun knows he should just get to it already, or Sakurai will find him utterly weird for just standing there.  
“The director-, he praised us both for the performance in that scene. Said we do not need a retake.” He cannot even speak clearly, wow. Jun blames it on the jumbled emotions he still needs to get out of his body. He still remembers the tingle in his hand after hitting Sakurai.  
Sakurai abandons his cloth on the table as he gets up and moves around to step towards Matsumoto, “That’s good. You did a great job. Seriously, I was surprised at how angry you can look,” he says and suddenly he is very close, tilting his head and narrowing his eyes as he catches, and tightly holds onto Jun’s eyes, “You are truly a very interesting human,” he whispers then, and goose bumps rise on Jun’s arms at the feeling of Sakurai’s warm breath against his skin. For a second, he thinks he forgets how to breathe and swallows. Sakurai’s eyes dart to his neck, pupils dilating slightly, and there is a ringing in Jun’s ears, a heat around him, a heat rising when Sakurai slowly raises his eyes again, to rest them on Jun’s lips. Just as Jun opens his mouth slightly to suck in a quick breath, there are light footsteps behind them, and Jun quickly takes a step back and away from Sakurai and his captivating gaze.  
“Sakurai-san, ah- and Matsumoto-san, um…” It is Kiko and she is clearly distressed at finding the two of them together.  
Jun regains his composure surprisingly fast, “Yes? What is it Kiko-chan?”  
The actress seems to snap out of whatever thought she was having, and lights up in a smile, “I was wondering if the two of you would like to join us at the usual bar tonight? Since the director let us have tomorrow off, – apparently due to your superior performance. You guys really are awesome, you know. So, we would all like to go drinking with the two best actors on set.”  
Matsumoto smiles and waves his hand in a dismissive gesture while Sakurai chuckles beside him, making Matsumoto throw him a glance.  
“There is no such thing, Mizuhara-san,” Sakurai says and steps forward, once more making a complete change of character, “But if we truly are celebrating nearing the end of filming, I wouldn’t mind sharing a drink or two with you guys,” he stops at the actress’ side and turns towards Jun, expectation evident in his stance.  
A smirk is pulling at the corner of Jun’s lip, “If you insist, then I guess I am going too.” He shrugs nonchalantly, while in reality his heart is beating wildly.  
  
*  
  
They arrive at the bar around 8 pm., deciding to not only order beer and a bottle of sake for sharing, but small dishes too, to compensate for the lack of dinner. It seems Kiko has been very active in gathering people; almost everyone dripples in around 8, one following the other, even actors who were not even on set for the day, including Shigeaki, who breaks out in a truly idolizing smile when he sees Sakurai, and Kamenashi whose mischievous grin aimed at Matsumoto makes the young actor sigh inwardly.  Really, is Kame necessary? When he purposely walks up beside Jun, eyes flickering to Sakurai just briefly, Jun wants to strangle him.  
“So how did it go today, Matsumoto-san?” he asks and pokes Jun in the _ribs_ , again, really, does he himself not realise how annoying he is?  
Matsumoto narrows his eyes at him, “Very well, thank you, Kamenashi-kun,”  
“Tell me, why does Sakurai-san look like he was in a fight?” the way Kamenashi asks makes irritation rise up in Jun. From the tone of Kamenashi’s voice, the way he grins at Matsumoto and points to his cheek – obviously referring to slight swelling on Sakurai’s cheekbone – he seems to be mocking Sakurai, finally finding some way to make fun of him.  
Jun will not have it, “Haven’t you read the script, Kamenashi-kun?” he asks, smirk slightly cruel, “I hit Sakurai-san on purpose _,” though maybe I was not supposed to have hit that hard_ , “Since the scene required me to do so.”  
Kamenashi’s smile falters. _Jealousy is an ugly thing._ To Jun, it appears as though Kamenashi has decided to proclaim Sakurai as a rival, and maybe he expects Jun to see Sakurai the same way, for Jun to team up with him against Sakurai. It is almost amusing.  
When they sit down around their reserved table, Jun discovers himself seated between Kamenashi and one of their ADs, Tanaka. Since Jun cannot help being awfully aware of Sakurai, he watches as the actor sits down across from him with Shigeaki who is apparently telling him a very dramatic story, with the animated way his arms are flying around him. Sakurai keeps his attention on him, smiling politely, nodding. As Jun wraps his hand around his cold beer, quietly lifting it towards his lips, Sakurai raises his eyes across the table and looks straight at him. Despite the heat in his cheeks at being caught, and the way his heart jumps, Jun manages to smile and raise his eyebrows in an amused expression – no one can deny that it is cute how Shige crowds Sakurai. And when Sakurai sends a crooked smile at Jun, before turning his attention back to Shigeaki, Jun swears he feels a bit of warmth in his stomach. Shigeaki is not the only one smitten by Sakurai. Many of the other actors and assistants tonight all seem to want to talk with the mysterious actor. Jun does not blame them. Up until now, there has not really been a chance for them to get to know Sakurai, as the man always seems to vanish into thin air after he finishes filming. So they are left with only the knowledge of him supposedly being very famous, and certainly living up to that title.  
From where Matsumoto is sitting, he easily catches the way Sakurai smiles at the others, how attentive he is when they speak to him, and how his eyes occasionally flicker towards Matsumoto when he thinks Matsumoto isn’t looking. Jun wishes he could say he is as attentive towards the people whom he is conversing with, but he is not, not when Sakurai is so close by, under such relaxed circumstances, not when the beer keeps flowing, and certainly not when the bottle of sake is being passed around and Tanaka yells at Yamamoto to hurry and fill Sakurai’s glass, quoting Shigeaki at how they all want to see how Sakurai-san holds his liquor. People are getting increasingly louder, and just when Sakurai has finally been convinced to participate in a toast, when he is just about to down his cup – something Jun has been wanting to see, watching intensively – Kiko shrieks near Matsumoto and that draws his attention away from Sakurai, towards her instead.  
There are only a few women present at this point, and amongst increasingly tipsy males, it could be turning slightly dangerous. Jun is not sure whether Kiko has realized this. Despite of Sakurai’s enticing presence, Jun finds it more important to make sure Kiko is ok, and thus he does not hesitate for long. He gets up to catch sight of her pulling her hand out of the grasp of one of the stuntmen who was on set today. Jun narrows his eyes as he sees how the man is getting a bit too close for comfort.  
“Hey,” he says sternly, though not too loudly, because he does not want to start a commotion by drawing attention to himself and what is going on at this corner of the table. Let the people continue to look at Sakurai.  
Kiko has gotten up, clutching her bag in her hands, eyes locked on the man who is blabbering something about her being the prettiest woman he has ever seen, and ‘do not leave me alone, baby, I will be lonely here. Come drink with me.’ Jun is disgusted by the way he behaves, and he is by Kiko’s side in a flash, gently touching her elbow,  
“Mizuhara-san,” he says gently by her ear, making her look up at him, her big eyes wider than usual, mouth formed in a pout clearly expressing her discomfort, “Want to get outside for a bit?”  
Eyes glossy, she nods instantly, and Jun does not want to think about what the other guy has tried on her to make her look like that – he is sure it will ruin his mood and probably his reputation, should he end up in a fight with the guy. No, Jun is responsible enough to know that that would be a very bad idea. Besides, he is not known to have a big temper.  
Nodding at her, he leaves the rest of the company to their drinking and guides Kiko out of the bar, onto the sidewalk where he lets go of her arm, “Are you ok? Do you want me to help you find a cab?” he asks, eyes searching her face for any sign of her being hurt.  
She smiles at him, and he is instantly relieved, “Thank you, Matsumoto-san,”  
He shakes his head dismissively at her, “It is not a problem. Here, stay by my side.”  
Finding a taxi at this hour in front of the bar is easy, since a big road goes directly past the front door. It takes less than 10 minutes to flag one down, the time during which Jun chats quietly with Kiko, not mentioning what happened inside the bar. It is not important, and will most likely be forgotten on set next time they have filming.  
“Take care on your way home,” he tells her as she gets in the taxi, “Tell me when you’ve gotten home safely,” he makes a gesture of bringing a phone to his ear and Kiko nods obediently.  
“Thanks again for taking care of me.”  
Jun smiles back at her and will honestly wait for her call, to be certain that she arrives home in one piece. As the taxi drives away, he puts his hands in his pockets and sighs. The cool air is a nice contrast to the slightly uncomfortable heat in the bar. At this hour, the heat from the grills and people’s skin can make the cramped space in the bar rather unpleasant. Jun takes a moment to appreciate the small break he got out of this, before he decides it is time to head back inside. If he is lucky, he can get the same spot across from Sakurai again.   
When he turns, he nearly bumps into said person. Again. How many times has this happened? The man surely knows how to sneak up on people.  
“Sakurai-san.”  
“I would never have guessed you were that fond of Mizuhara-san,” Sakurai says, pursing his lips. Jun likes the expression he is wearing a little too much: Brows furrowing and unfurrowing in an unreadable way as he waits for Jun’s answer.  
“I consider her a friend, so I wanted to make sure nothing bad happened to her,” he explains, and then tilts his head at the other man, “Was that wrong of me?”  
His words cause Sakurai to smirk. Jun does not care about the act Sakurai puts up in there with their colleagues, this is the man’s favourite expression, - which one of his appearances is the true one, Jun wonders.  
No one but the two of them are out here, so Jun is not concerned when Sakurai steps closer to him, one step, two steps, slithering into his personal space; it is becoming quite a frequent occurrence. Jun stands completely still, refusing to look taken aback, to be intimidated by the darkness in Sakurai’s eyes, by the way his posture suddenly seems more predatory,  
“Definitely not. I had hoped you would join in on the sake though.” Sakurai cranes his neck a bit, and Jun cannot help but follow Sakurai’s pink tongue with his eyes as it darts out and moistens the man’s lips, “If we’re lucky, the others will have left some for you.”  
Jun sucks in a quick breath through his nose, smelling Sakurai’s intoxicating cologne, “You are the main attraction tonight though, I bet the others cannot wait for your return to the company.”  
This time Sakurai grins, and Jun shivers, “But I’d rather be in your company.”  
Jun’s eyes flicker briefly around them, and he realizes he has taken a small step back after all, when Sakurai just follows, his stare zeroed in on Jun’s face, on his eyes, his lips, his neck. Sakurai’s eyes are so scrutinizing that Jun feels as if Sakurai is stripping him, tearing all his pretences away, one shield after another shattering. Just under his burning gaze, Matsumoto is crumbling and falling apart.  
It is not until his back hits a wall that Jun realizes what is actually happening. Sakurai is doing it again: Taking Jun’s senses away, rendering him unable to realize what he is doing, how time is passing, where he is heading. The shadows fall over them, and the eyes that see should no longer be a concern, now that there is only Sakurai’s presence, Sakurai’s mesmerizing eyes and hot breath and dangerous lips.  
“What are you doing to me, Jun?” Sakurai suddenly whispers against his lips, and Jun swallows hard, fisting his hands, fighting the urge to kiss Sakurai, to just give in to his desire, the desire he has felt since he first lay eyes on the other actor.  
He realizes Sakurai is panting slightly, and just as Jun stops to hold his breath, just as he is seized by the urge to bolt and get out of the corner he finds himself in, Sakurai’s hand is by his cheek, letting his thumb gently slide over Jun’s lips. Jun’s mouth trembles, and he cannot stop his lips from parting,  
“Sho-” he breathes in a last attempt to stop the man, to try and make him realize what he is doing, what they are doing.  
“I am sorry for wanting you.”  
The world stops, and Sakurai’s lips are on his, soft but demanding, and Jun cannot retain the sigh from escaping, a sound which seems to ignite something in Sakurai and his fingers are suddenly grabbing Jun’s jaw rather roughly, dragging Jun’s mouth hard against his. The following second Jun is breathing into Sakurai’s hot mouth, and Sakurai’s tongue invades, meeting his own and Jun moans. Just by kissing him, Sakurai makes Jun’s body burn hot, makes the arousal rise fast in him, and he is no longer thinking straight as his hands find their way to Sakurai’s nape, pulling him closer, if possible. He does not know how long they make out in the darkness of the wall, just knows that he cannot get enough of the way Sakurai’s wet tongue feels against his own, how the kiss cannot get messy enough for him; he is instantly high on the heat from Sakurai’s skin and the growls the other man emits quietly when Jun sucks on his tongue. The way Sakurai makes it impossible for Matsumoto to exist, the way he makes Jun act, the way he renders him both insecure and confident at the same time, it makes Jun realize something which shakes the very ground he is walking. He realizes he wants to stay in the constructed reality he can create with Sakurai. He wants to stay in the heat, in the thrill, in the world in which he feels breathless and in which he can truly breathe. Here, he can see himself, can see Jun, and not the artificial character he created for himself so long ago in the other, real world.  
  
*  
  
_It is wrong of him to want Jun so badly. It is wrong and weird and definitely not in the guidelines. But he is the Angel of Death, who is to tell him what is fucking right and wrong._  
He wants Jun so much, he hurts. The desire to take the man, to be inside him, is so strong he has a hard time staying on his side of the table. He wants to possess him, to show everyone that Jun is his, that the man belongs to him and to no one else. Every time his eyes meet Jun’s he feels like he is on fire, a sensation so strong he is not sure how to rid himself of it. Whether he wants to be rid of it. His position becomes uncomfortable, his skin too tight. Looking into Jun’s gorgeous, light brown eyes, Sho wonders whether he can see what Sho is imagining: Whether he can see himself pressed hard up against the wall, legs tightly wrapped around Sho’s waist, nails digging into his shoulder-blades as Sho thrusts into him hard and fast and violently. He wonders whether Jun can see his desire to fuck him, the desire to hear him beg for more, for Sho to go deeper, rougher, faster. He wonders if Jun feels just as aroused, just looking at Sho.  
There is no going back now, nothing he can do to stop the new turn the events have taken. Before, there might have been a chance. Sho did everything he could to steer clear of what he feared he wanted, did everything he could in order to not touch Jun. But as soon as their lips met, as soon as Sho felt Jun’s mouth on his, he knew that it would be impossible for him to stop.  
  
*  
  
None of it had been part of Jun’s plans. What happened between him and Sakurai in front of the bar was, considering their situation, very inconvenient and unprofessional. As long as they stay colleagues on a set, Jun swears he will not sleep with Sakurai. Despite the fact that there is nothing he wants more. He cannot refuse that he has wanted Sakurai to make a move like the one he did, it is something Jun has dreamt about, but facing the reality as it is now makes him realize what a stupid wish that was. They have to wait. He has to wait. He is _way_ too professional to hinder himself like that. And he bets Sakurai feels the same way. The man practically reeks of professionalism and has a seemingly spotless image. For him to have abandoned those ideals for Jun…  
Jun raises his hand to touch a finger to his lips, certain he can still feel the heat from Sakurai’s mouth there, the demand evident in the way he kissed Jun, despite the fact that it was two days ago. His skin tingles when he considers how Sakurai feels about him. Jun remembers how jealousy stuck out its ugly head the first day when Sakurai spoke with Kame, and it makes him grin giddily. How stupid. Wondering how long Sakurai has been interested, he turns to face the mirror.  
Right now, Sakurai is on set, working on some of the last takes. If everything goes smoothly, Jun reckons there will be about a week left before they can all call it all a wrap.  
In front of him lies a TV Magazine featuring an interview with the director about the new drama, and Jun wonders how the audience will receive it, whether they will like it. He has to admit that if he was one to judge it as a viewer, he would undoubtedly love it. With the perfect amount of mystery, action and drama, he would probably enjoy every second of it, scooting out to the very edge of his sofa pillow to bite his nails as Chess plays his little games. Jun sees his reflection in the mirror smiling, a pink blush on his cheeks. Maybe he can get Sakurai to watch it with him?  
Honestly, he still does not know very much about the other man. Wanting to have sex with someone does not automatically make you know their personality, what they like and dislike, what their hobbies are, when they usually get up in the morning. But if there is one thing Jun is not afraid to admit at this point, it is that he cannot wait to get to know Sakurai Sho. Could he fall for him?  
Though the set is open for him, should he wish to watch Sakurai act out how Chess behaves in prison, Jun reckons it is better to stay in his green room. He actually did pop his head in, in the beginning of filming, eyes following Sakurai closely, how he was perfectly in character – as always – until it became too much for Jun. No, it is safer to stay here until Sakurai finishes. Of course, things should not be awkward between them, but Jun cannot help but feel slightly shy towards Sakurai. Even thinking about it makes him fidget in his chair. How should he behave when greeting him? Should he still call him Sakurai-san? Would that be weird? Gods, since when did he become so childish? Matsumoto is not insecure at all. He is arrogant and unfazed. But all of that is something Sakurai has easily peeled away, isn’t it?  
Jun sighs and runs both hands through his hair, tousling the short, un-styled locks, and gets up just as the door opens. The scolding is on the tip of his tongue; he is ready to tell whoever is there that they should knock before entering, but he quickly swallows whatever he wanted to say, when he recognizes the jet black hair and the smirk.  
“You look cute with your hair down like that,”  
And Jun can feel himself blush. Well, so much for avoiding the actor.  
“How did filming go?” he asks then, crossing his arms in order not to continue his fidgeting.  
Sakurai is wearing white pants and a very loose white shirt, a couple of sizes too big, his ‘prison clothing’ and the way it hangs from his angled shoulders reveals his collarbones and jugular beautifully, making Jun swallow, having a hard time retaining himself from staring. Should Sakurai bend over just a little bit, would Jun be able to see his nipples, he wonders.  
Sakurai shrugs nonchalantly as he steps towards Jun carefully,  
“Very well, I reckon. They are filming the scene with Mizuhara-san and Kamenashi-kun now,”  
There is an amused expression on Sakurai’s face, and Jun suspects he can easily see how Jun tries to pretend to be cool about the situation. The actor comes to a halt in front of him, with an acceptable distance still between them.  
“Why didn’t you come to watch me?” Sakurai asks, and then juts his lower lip out in a cute pout, pretending to be disappointed.  
And maybe he is. Jun finds himself momentarily stunned by how irresistible the expression makes Sakurai look. He blinks,  
“No, I- I didn’t want to get in the way.” He says, and knows he is screwed already.  
“Get in the way? Matsumoto-kun, unless you walk straight into the middle of the shot, I do not think you could ever be in the way.”  
Okay, what was the other excuse again?  
“I did not want to be a distraction.”  
“Ah. See, that would be another matter entirely.” Sakurai smirks. His hand brushes at the collar of Jun’s shirt, eyes trailing from his eyes and down to his neck, “Perhaps it is better for you to stay away from me then,” Now his voice has lowered in volume and in pitch, turning it darker, and Jun’s breath hitches in his throat.  
“That’s what I was thinking.” Jun admits, trying not to feel off balance by the way Sakurai’s dark eyes move back to his, how he has suddenly moved closer. Why does he always manage to corner Jun like this? “After what happened at the bar, I thought it was better to put a bit of distance between us. At least until we finish fil-”  
“I wish I could agree.”  
Sakurai’s interruption has him startling slightly. He is only this jumpy because of the warmth he can feel from Sakurai’s body, because of the fact that Sakurai’s hand around his collar is now clenching around the fabric. It will only be a matter of time…  
They move simultaneously.  
Sakurai yanks him forward by the collar as Jun’s hands fly out to bury themselves in the dark locks of Sakurai’s hair. Jun has already tilted his head by the time their lips meet, and he eagerly opens his mouth for Sakurai’s tongue. As the ignition goes off, Jun finds himself being forced backwards into the table, the wood digging into the back of his thighs. He grunts quietly at the impact, trying to fight back with his own tongue pushing against Sakurai’s. The door is not locked, and Sakurai’s hand is straying to his back, boldly moving underneath the fabric to brush over Jun’s lower back. Jun sighs at the way Sakurai’s fingers leave burning traces as they move in random patterns, slowly, experimenting their way upwards. To hell with this professionalism stuff, who cares anyway when Sakurai’s leg moves between his and rubs deliciously against the growing erection Jun is sporting. He tilts his head back in a moan when Sakurai presses against him, as his hand causes Jun’s shirt to move slightly upwards, exposing skin.  
“You sound so good,” Sakurai is breathless against the skin of Jun’s neck as he nibbles at what Jun is so appropriately exposing to him.  
The dark, gravely edge to Sakurai’s voice causes Jun to shiver and move his hands down to cradle Sakurai’s hipbones and move him closer. When he pulls him forward, Jun makes a roll of his hips, noting the budge in Sho’s loose pants when their crotches rub against each other, causing both of them to moan, Jun in a slightly higher pitch than Sho.  
“My God, Jun,”  
Jun just grabs onto Sakurai’s face again with both hands, and drags him in for a bruising kiss, showing Sakurai exactly how much he wants him. Sakurai groans against his lips, a second hand joining the first one at Jun’s back, which forces them flush against each other, and makes Jun shake violently when Sakurai moves his hands up on either side of Jun’s spine, massaging his muscles there. If Jun did not know any better, he would think it was possible for him to come right then and there, with the way Sakurai’s hands make him feel things he never imagined he would ever feel. If not for the table to support him, he would melt, come apart. And he would not even care.  
He lets his teeth clamp gently onto Sakurai’s lower lip when he moves his head away, taking pleasure in the way Sakurai growls at the slight tugging.  
Then Sakurai husks against his ear, “I am going to have such a hard time staying away from you,” and as he gently bites at Jun’s earlobe, traveling kisses down the side of his neck, Jun wishes they were alone in his apartment instead of being exposed like this in his green room. He does not wish for Sakurai to ever stop, especially not when he starts sucking on Jun’s pulse, biting and tugging, working his way towards marking Jun. Such a thing would definitely cause murmurs on set, but Jun does not give a flying fuck – rather, he would feel slightly proud of such a thing given by Sho.  
Suddenly, Sho bites him a little too hard, sending a pang down to Jun’s cock, and he whimpers almost silently, his hips jerking in response, which only causes Sho to bite him again.  
This is getting out of hand, and Jun realises he is the only one who can break the two of them apart now, though he never imagined to be the saner of the two, in this setting. But then again, Sho does emit a strong will to dominate, and Jun is starting to sense that he can be quite reckless in these situations.  
“We- We should… We should stop.” Jun has trouble breathing, and his protests are weak and half-hearted. But they really do need to stop, so he tries pushing gently at Sakurai’s shoulders, which only makes the other man growl in protest.  
“No, seriously- Sho-san, we should stop. We need to get back on set. What if-” Sho kisses his neck one last time before withdrawing. He looks rather upset when he comes back into Jun’s periphery, lips forming that adorable pout again, “We cannot risk anyone seeing us.”  
They are both out of breath and Jun suspects his lips look as abused as Sho’s, just as swollen. Jun manages to grin at the other man though, “That really would be bad for our image.”  
Sho studies him briefly, eyes flickering over his face, before he smiles mischievously, “Who cares?”  
But he does step back to run a hand over his face and lips, as if he is wiping off what they just did. With his pulse slowing down, Jun puts his hands back in his pockets – just a precaution to keep his hands off of Sho maybe – and notices the look the other man is giving him.  
“What?” he chuckles, trying not to feel embarrassed.  
Sho gives him a slow smile before he shakes his head, “Nothing. I’ll go back on set after I calm down a bit. Join me?”  
Maybe it is a bad idea. There was a reason Jun withdrew to his greenroom after all. It does seem rather pointless now though, and Sho’s eyes are shining so expectantly, like he really wants Jun to go with him, that Jun has a hard time resisting. He returns Sho’s smile, ignoring the way his heartrate picks up again,  
“Okay.”  
  
*  
  
The same thing happens more than once during the following couple of days. Every time Jun retreats to his green room, Sakurai finds a way to sneak in, rendering Jun unable to push him away when Sakurai corners him.  
The first day after the incident, Kamenashi walks up to Matsumoto, brow furrowed as he stares at Matsumoto’s neck.  
“Is that a hickey?”  
There is a hint of mockery underneath the curiosity in his voice, and Jun fights off the urge to lift his hand and cover the mark Sakurai made on him.  
“What if it is?” Matsumoto replies, looking down at the other actor with unimpressed eyes.  
Kamenashi blinks stupidly for a few seconds as if he is taken aback by the fact that he was actually right – for once – that someone has been close enough to Matsumoto to actually give him a love bite. Matsumoto waits patiently for Kamenashi to regain his wits, before he elbows Matsumoto in the ribs,  
“Who gave it to you then, eh? I bet she got all hot and bothered when she heard you are playing an agent. Nice play, Matsumoto-kun,”  
Jun rolls his eyes and walks away.  
When Sakurai finds him in the middle of changing to another stage outfit later, he slams the door after himself before coming towards Jun in a powerful stride, giving Jun no time to even ask before he pushes him against the wall, mouth hot and unyielding as he sucks the air from Jun’s lungs, roaming his hands all over the exposed skin. Sakurai yanks the shirt from Jun’s hands and sneaks one arm around his waist, pulling Jun tight against him while he moves to run his other hand over Jun’s torso, receiving a quiet whimper when he fingers at Jun’s waistband.  
Briefly, Jun wonders what has caused Sho to be this forceful, but is soon rendered unable to think altogether when Sho’s teeth come in contact with the sensitive skin of his neck, his ability to act crumbling when Sho reaches his nipple.  
  
*  
  
On the third day of their last week, when Jun truly thinks he is going crazy, he gets a day off, instantly calling Nino. Aside from text messages consisting of “How is Aiba-shi?” – “Oh-chan is so skilled with a rod in hand.” and “Don’t you miss me at all, J?” Jun has not spoken with his best friend since filming of his drama started. Now that he finally has time – and something to talk about – he even goes as far as to invite Ninomiya out for dinner; something he knows the other actor will not be able to resist.  
He meets Nino in front of the new noodle shop a few streets from Jun’s apartment. The place opened recently and serves both Nino’s favourite and Jun’s favourite. Jun has done his research about the place, making sure it has received great recommendations, before taking his friend there, despite the fact that Ninomiya probably would not care, even if he was to be served cup ramen and edamame.  
When Nino shows up, Jun almost does not recognize him because of the nice colour to his cheeks, the healthy shine in his eyes.  
“Yo J! Finally found the time to ask me out? I am flattered.”  
Despite the fact that they are going out for dinner, Jun’s friend is wearing casual shorts and a brown jacket, very unlike Jun with his leather and tailored jeans.  
“Ninomiya,” Jun greets back, unable to contain his smile.  
Nino widens his eyes and places a hand on his heart, “My gosh Jun-kun, can you stop that creepy expression? Is that a smile? It’s gross.”  
It only makes Jun grin wider, and he punches Nino gently on the arm, “Shut up. Let’s go inside.”  
As soon as they are seated, beers ordered, Jun rests his arms on the table, leaning towards Ninomiya. Despite his embarrassing exit from the hospital when they visited Ohno, he still wants to know how the older man is doing, aside from being good at fishing.  
“So, how is Ohno-san? Last time I saw him he was in the hospital. Has he been discharged yet?”  
Ninomiya takes his time with his first gulp of beer before smirking at Jun,  
“Oh-chan is doing good. And so am I. In fact, we are doing well together.”  
“Together?” It is dumb to ask when Jun knows exactly what Nino means. With all the teasing his friend usually does though, Jun finds it more than appropriate for Nino to spill this kind of beans – to tell Jun the details and not have him guess. Secretly, he is thrilled that Ninomiya finally found someone he wants to be with, someone with whom it actually works out well.  
“Yup,” Ninomiya takes another sip of his beer, “We are considering moving in together. Or _I_ am considering. Oh-chan won’t mind anyway, so I’ll just tell him when I find a fitting apartment. He won’t have a choice in the matter.”  
The smile Nino sends Jun then makes the younger actor feel all warm inside. Nino is happy. He has found someone whom he will not mind going through trouble to be with, someone who makes the day worth working through, someone he looks forward to seeing every day, someone to share his pleasures and his displeasures with. And that makes Jun happy. Truly. If anyone, Ninomiya deserves this. Since Jun cannot possibly return everything which Ninomiya has done for him, he can only do his best to make sure that Nino is happy. Seems like he does not need to worry about that anymore.  
“That makes me happy, Nino,” his words, or maybe the tone in which he says them, makes Nino raise his head, expression slightly surprised, “Really. Let’s make a toast to that. To you and Ohno-san.”  
Jun chooses not to react to the blush he sees on Ninomiya’s cheeks when he mumbles his agreement and they clink glasses; it is only a nice proof of Nino’s happiness.  
They continue talking about Nino, about how well his recent drama is received, how he has trouble with how to handle his nomination for Best Actor, how he wants a new game for his birthday which is a couple of months from now, and how he loves the fish Ohno sometimes cooks for him. And Jun enjoys listening to Ninomiya speak. Previously, the actor was hard to get to talk much, especially about himself, but now it seems like he has no trouble with it, as if he actually enjoys it. Hearing about Ninomiya’s life distances Jun a little from all that is happening on the set of his filming, and the huge mess everything was in before he got a new manager. It feels good to forget about it for a while: His role, the script, Sakurai.  
At some point, the silence falls between them, each of them in their own thoughts while they finish their food. Jun will definitely come back here, his soba is delicious. Across from him, Ninomiya slurps up the last of his soup, before he puts down the bowl, eyes fixed on Jun. Jun immediately prepares himself for whatever – he actually knows what – is coming now.  
“So, J. I am sure you did not bring me here only because you care about my well-being. And as much as I enjoy talking about myself, I am curious to this change in you. No, don’t look at me like you did not expect me to notice. Something is definitely different with you.”  
“Well…” Jun starts, a bit hesitant. Heat is in his cheeks at the thought of how Sakurai has crowded him recently, not minding it at all, in all honesty.  
He hears Nino snort, “That is definitely an interesting expression. Don’t think I’ve seen that one on you since you told me Ai-chan from class 6.D had kissed you in the girl’s restroom.”  
Jun chuckles at that memory and shakes his head slightly, hoping to clear his mind and pull himself together, he is acting like a schoolkid alright.  
“Ok, what is this lucky guy’s name, Jun-chan?”  
In the end, Jun peaks up at Nino through his eyelashes,  
“Sho. Sakurai Sho,” he answers, noticing how just saying his name makes Jun feel all stupid in the head.  
Nino hums, “And you’ve met this guy on set, I assume?” What is up with meeting love interests on set? Jun feels a little like an imitator.  
“Yes. I did not meet him until we shot his first scene though. He plays the villain,”  
The words have barely made their way out of Jun’s mouth before Ninomiya throws his head back, “Ohhhh, I see. Of course he is the villain.”  
“What?”  
Jun does not understand. Why is that so funny? Was it obvious?  
As Ninomiya looks back at him, there is a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips, “I should’ve guessed you’d go for the bad guy.”  
Jun narrows his eyes. He still does not get it, “And what do you mean by that?”  
Finally, Ninomiya stops looking like he is mocking Jun, and the smirk turns into a smile,  
“Who other than the villain would be able to fight you, J?” his voice is surprisingly gentle, “If he is not a strong character, there is no way he would be able to give you any competition.”  
Jun starts gnawing on the inside of his lip, and Ninomiya moves his empty bowl away to lean further in over the table, “I am not saying you need a strong hand against you, I just mean that… How do I say this? You need someone with a secure grip and a clever mind to even get close to reaching you, Jun-kun. Oh, and it is probably a good idea if he is a bit forceful and persistent, or he won’t get you to budge. Ah, I am definitely looking forward to watching that drama now.”  
Ninomiya is smiling at him, looking at him with those knowing eyes of his, and Jun is sure he is right. Hell, sometimes he thinks Ninomiya knows him better than he knows himself. Hopefully, the wish to get to know Sakurai better, to have Sakurai know Jun as Jun and not as Matsumoto, is not wrongly chosen of Jun. Hopefully, Sakurai will be the one to reach him. As of now though, all there is to it is sexual attraction. They do not know much about each other, and Jun tells Nino as much.  
“What was the name of the drama again?”  
“ _Pawns_.”  
Ninomiya hums, “Well, don’t worry about it, you’ll soon learn all you need to know about this guy, I am sure. Besides, if he disappoints you, sleep with him and leave it at that. If he is a villain, he will be great in bed,”  
Jun snorts, and Nino winks at him. Well, there would probably be no harm in letting Sho come even closer – hell, Jun is quite sure he would enjoy it.  
“There is only one thing though that you have to remind this Sakurai-guy of,” Jun looks back at Nino as his expression turns serious, “I will make his life hell on earth if he hurts you.”  
Jun does not doubt that.  
  
“Thank you for the meal, J, and the talk. We should do this again soon. Then I can tell you all about Oh-chan’s paintings and our new apartment. Oh, and maybe I’ll even invite you over for beer and cucumber on my birthday.” He winks cheekily and Jun snorts, “Give my regards to your Sho-san, will you?”  
Jun waves at him as he turns around to head home. He sighs deeply, contently.  
Tomorrow, he will nail another take of his drama, with newly found strength, and face the following interview with a smile. Ninomiya has brightened his mood even more, and Jun once again finds himself looking forward to get to work.


	6. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**  
Despite the smile on his face as he takes a bath before bed, as he turns off the light in his room, as he gets under the covers, despite the warmth in his stomach, Jun is plagued by nightmares all night.  
He wakes up early, covered in sweat, cringing when he feels how damp the covers underneath him are. His head is pounding, and he is dizzy as he sits on the edge of the bed, trying to rid himself of the horrible images he saw during the night.  
Jun remembers darkness, such horrible, horrible blackness that it makes waves and waves of shivers run over his skin, he remembers crows above his head, crows picking at his exposed skin, his eyes, his hands as he lay naked on the cold ground, he remembers blood and pain, and he remembers screaming so loudly he was sure his eardrums would burst. Never has he had such horribly vivid images appear behind his eyelids, and Jun wonders whether he might have had a fever during the night, suspecting it even more as another coughing fit seizes him in the shower.  
Hopefully, the illness will stay away until they finish filming. Jun is counting on it as he drinks his coffee. He _does not_ want to be the reason for a delay in the director’s schedule.  
  
*  
  
 “Okay, guys, that’s a wrap!”  
Matsumoto runs a hand through his tousled hair, styled to match the fake bags under his eyes, the bruises on his cheeks, his haggard looking expression. Or Ryou’s. Concerning the bags under his eyes, Matsumoto probably would not have needed much makeup, he already fit the image this morning.  
“Wow, you look like you had a rough night,” For the first time, Jun sends Sakurai a glare, tired as he is, which just makes the other man chuckle, though far from mean spirited.  
“Sorry. Are you ok?”  
Jun sighs and shakes his head, “Didn’t sleep well. As you said.”  
Sho chooses to follow Jun as he leaves set, and Jun grabs a bottle of water one of the staffers offers to him as he passes by.  
“I am glad the director accepted the take then. Hopefully you can go home and catch up on some of those lost hours,” Sakurai continues, and Jun realises it is actually the first time the other actor has expressed worry for him.  
It makes him smile despite his fatigue, “I hope so. We both have a long day ahead of us tomorrow.”  
The last scene between Chess and Ryou will be shot the following day, and honestly, Jun has been rather pumped about it – for several reasons.  
When Jun glances at Sho’s profile, he catches the grin he is wearing, and admits: “I can’t believe we finish soon. It has been quite a ride,” Jun turns his head to avoid looking at Sho as he says those words, but still feels Sho’s eyes on him, “Honestly, mostly because of you, Sho-san. I believe everyone feels that way.”  
After finishing, he forces himself to swallow the embarrassment and finally looks back at Sho, their eyes meeting. He can see a spark in those black orbs of Sho’s and smiles shyly.  
“Careful what you say Matsumoto-kun, or I might just end up kissing you. Right here.”  
Despite the warning, Jun just smiles wider and turns his eyes away again. Here, where everyone can see is not a good idea, Jun’s sense is telling him, whereas his body tells him that kissing Sho in itself is a brilliant idea. But, when he weighs the pros and cons… Probably best not to do what he wants the most. It can wait.  
“Have you been asked to do the interview for TV Life?” he asks instead.  
“Mmm,” Sho mumbles and Jun takes that as a yes, albeit a hesitant one. Maybe he does not want to do it?  
“But you refused?”  
It would be quite something for someone like Sho to refuse an opportunity like this. So many people read the TV Life for television news and program schedules. It is an easy way for a new actor to get attention.  
Then it dawns on Jun that Sakurai might not really be interested in fame at all, he could do acting just because he enjoys it – like Jun himself does.  
Sho throws him a glance, one eyebrow raised and a slight smile on his lips. Yes. He refused. Jun wants to know, he wants to ask Sho why, but he does not get the chance, because then they reach the door to Sho’s green room. Which means they will have to part.  
“Thank you for your hard work today, Matsumoto-kun,” Sho bows, “I will see you tomorrow.”  
Jun raises an eyebrow at the politeness in Sho’s voice, at the sudden stiffness to his behaviour. _That’s odd._  
From behind him, he hears voices and then the director comes walking along with one of the ADs, and when he sees him and Sakurai, he nods and smiles,  
“Thanks for your hard work.”  
“Thanks for your hard work. Let’s continue tomorrow.”  
And then they are past the two actors and Jun turns back to Sho to find him smirking, and Sho throws one quick glance at the disappearing backs before sending Jun a grin,  
“Try to get some sleep, ok?”  
Jun’s heart is beating fast when he continues to his own green room. He has barely closed his door before his phone beeps from his inner pocket. A snort of contained delight escapes him when he sees who the sender is.  
  
**Sho:**  
_I cannot wait to see you tomorrow._  
  
*  
  
Ryou finds himself unable to be entirely happy seeing Chess’ retreating back as he is lead into the prison by two of the broadest jail officers Ryou has ever seen. He cannot truly comprehend that it is finally over, that they have finally caught the killer and criminal mastermind they have hunted for almost a year. He just cannot fully understand. He reckons it will take time to process and digest it all.  
His team has made many sacrifices for them to come to this result; not just time and money, but lives as well. Thinking about Shoutaro makes Ryou’s heart clench painfully. Had he ever had the slightest idea that the younger agent would lose his life like that, he would have insisted on him staying at the office every time they went after Chess. But he also knows that Chess probably had it all planned out anyway. Ryou just cannot stop the nagging feeling that Chess still is in control.  
Just before the doors slam shut behind the criminal, he turns to send Ryou one last ominous grin, causing a shiver to run down Ryou’s spine. It would be no surprise if Chess knows exactly what is going on inside Ryou’s head right now; the bitter taste of regret over the fact that there will no longer be anyone to chase.  
  
“I think this drama ends in the best possible way,” Jun tells the others.  
Kiko nods and sips her coffee from the white paper cup and Sho hums, “It is certainly a cliff-hanger. People will start asking for a sequel or a special though,” he chuckles, “They’ll never accept an empty prison cell as the ending shot.”  
“But neither would I,” Kiko pouts her pretty red lips, “Wouldn’t you want another showdown between Akiyama and Chess? I bet you two are gonna miss them more than the audience will,”  
Jun and Sho exchange knowing glances. Of course Kiko is right, at least for Jun. He will definitely miss Ryou. But more so, he will miss the whole teamwork on set, the other actors, the crew, the setting, the mystery. He suspects the surprise when Sakurai entered the first time will be his most memorable experience as an actor. Nothing that crazy will ever happen on set again. Unless of course the director decides on a sequel. If that does happen, Jun will only accept the offer if Sakurai agrees on playing Chess again. No way anyone can portray that complicated character as well as him.  
“Anyone up for drinks later?” Kiko asks them then, but Matsumoto has to disappoint her.  
“Sorry, I need to discuss some things with my manager and get an overview of my schedule. Moreover, I have an interview with Non-no tomorrow.”  
“Aww, too bad. Sakurai-san?”  
When Jun glances over at him, he discovers Sho’s eyes are resting on him,  
“Hmm… I’ll think about it, thanks for the offer Mizuhara-san.” he answers, eyes leaving Jun to look at Kiko.  
“Okay, sure. I am going to go and ask Kato-san. I will see you guys tomorrow for the last day.” She waves at them as she rushes away. Jun wonders how she can be brave enough to go out again so soon after what happened. But Kiko is an outgoing girl with energy to burn, so Jun is not surprised, and she will probably just avoid inviting that stunt-guy.  
Something brushes Jun’s arm softly, and he looks over to find Sho having moved closer, fingertips at his elbow,  
“Mizuhara-san is right,” he says quietly, “I will miss being on this set.” He sounds almost sad, but knowing Sho, he probably has another reason for saying this.  
Jun pretends not to realise this, and turns his eyes forward again, though the sensation of Sho’s breath against his ear as he draws out the following words almost makes Jun close his eyes at how good it feels.  
“Mostly, I will miss seeing you so often.”  
The skin by Jun’s ear prickles. Does Jun have to tell Sho that there is no reason to tell him this? That Jun already knows. But that he must also understand the reason why Jun has been trying to keep a safe distance until now? That the reason he tries to push Sho away is not because he does not _want_ him. Actually, it is very much the opposite.  
Jun swallows and wets his lips,  
“I will miss seeing you too,” he admits then and feels awkward, but does not fail to notice Sho’s small hiss, “But I am looking forward to the benefits of us no longer being co-workers.”  
There is a breathy chuckle, and Jun swears he loves that sound.  
When Sho moves away from him then, Jun already misses his warmth. His eyes remain on Sho’s back as he leaves, hands in his pockets.  
  
*  
  
One has to give it to Matsumoto’s manager, he has certainly not been idling while Matsumoto has filmed _Pawns_. As a matter of fact, he has been very busy. And Matsumoto would probably have appreciated it more, if his thoughts were not occupied with other more important things; such as his jumbled – but also exciting – emotions.  
“There is an offer for an action movie starting in Autumn. You would probably want to aim for the role of the main character: A university student who somehow gets caught up in a Yakuza war,”  
Jun rolls his eyes.  
“Then there is talk of a new romance drama-”  
“No romance.”  
“Hmm… I also got an offer from a guy named Yamamoto who is currently writing a script for a movie about a phantom thief. Yamamoto would like to base that character on the actor who plays him. Maybe that could be of some interest?”  
Jun can feel Aiba’s eyes on him, gaze expectant and patient. His manager is probably proud of all the information he has gathered, and Jun does have to admit that the thief-movie sounds interesting, if not incredibly fitting. Matsumoto is lucky to receive such a rare offer. But Jun just has a hard time concentrating on new job opportunities right now.  
After a while of silence, Aiba sighs,  
“MatsuJun, I wish you would pay attention.” When he only gets a hum from Jun, he surprises the actor by sitting down next to him in the sofa, plopping onto the pillows.  
He is sporting a wicked grin all of a sudden, changing strategy: “I know that Sakurai guy is interesting, but if you are lucky, you might find someone just like him on one of the new projects.” He tries to wink, and fails miserably.  
Still, Jun does not answer. He continues staring at the TV screen where the first episode of his drama is airing. He has a hard time imagining he would find someone even _remotely_ close to Sho’s persona again.  
“Jun-kuuuun~” Aiba whines and pulls on Jun’s sleeve this time, “Answer meeeee. Come on. If I knew your thoughts would get so damn occupied by some random hunk, I would never have tried so hard for you, come on please.”  
It is somehow amusing how Matsumoto’s manager is the one to be this enthusiastic about a new project, seemingly also a little envious of the attention Matsumoto does not give him, but someone else. When he starts rolling around on the carpet, Jun gives in and finally chuckles at him.  
The reaction is instantaneous and Aiba raises his head like an attentive dog on the floor.  
“Can you then investigate that phantom thief movie a bit more? Ask about the plot and when he expects the script to be done, who the director will be, and ideas for the cast.”  
Aiba smiles widely, “Of course! I’m on it!” Only to jump up and almost run to get his bags, leaping towards the door as if he aims to do all those things for Matsumoto, _right this instant_.  
“One last thing.” He stops, hand on the doorknob and the way he says the words, all serious, makes Jun turn his head towards him, “Concerning that Sakurai… Be careful ok?”  
What? What is that supposed to mean?  
“We don’t want any scandals right?” the light, goofy tone is back, and Aiba grins before he leaves. What a display of character change.  
Jun is left with his brow furrowed, slightly stunned. It is not Aiba-like to say such sober things – was he seriously warning Jun? Jun has a hard time imagining that there should be a cause for Aiba’s concern. But Jun does not know Sakurai that well, does he. Then again, neither does Aiba.  
Up until the interview the following day, the majority of Jun’s speculations evolve around Aiba’s words. He is so confused. And he is haunted by nightmares again that night.  
  
*  
  
_“Don’t you think this is getting a little out of hand? You know, you… I am scared that you will-”_  
_“Aiba-san, it is not your job to be scared.”_  
_Sakurai glares coldly at the creature in front of him – someone who, like himself, is currently wearing a coat of illusion to look like a human – and tilts his head slightly to one side, daring his subordinate to continue his sentence. He follows the movement as Aiba swallows, and for a second he suspects this is the end of the conversation._  
_“But that Matsumoto has become seriously taken with you.”_  
_“That is what I am aiming for.”_  
_“But…”_  
_“Shut up.” Sakurai feels his face contort into a snarl and the sound slowly ascents in the room._  
_His anger bubbles up, but still he finds pleasure in the small start Aiba gives at his reaction. They both know what will happen if Aiba pushes it too far, dark swirling tendrils already moving across the floor slowly, towards him._  
_When Aiba takes a small step backwards, Sakurai follows the movement closely, eyes boring into him,_  
_“Please just let me say this...” Aiba hesitates, waiting for a permission that does not come, “What is the purpose of it all? You are going to devour his soul anyway.”_  
_Sakurai’s eyes narrow and suddenly, his furious expression turns smug in a hateful smirk, “My, Aiba-san. Don’t tell me you’ve become attached to the human?”_  
_“Of course no-”_  
_A crash as loud as thunder pierces the void of the tower, shaking the ground and the walls. And the sound is followed by a guttural growl. It is suddenly darker in the room, and when the slight rumbling subsides, every other noise has been silenced. Dark wings fill out the stone room and makes it seem claustrophobic and small, an eerie silver light shining close to Aiba’s face, Sakurai’s eyes aimed at him._  
_“I certainly hope not, because you know what I will have to do with you then,” his voice is ice, his eyes destruction, “He is mine. And I will do whatever I wish with him, whatever pleases me. No one, especially not you, will get in my way. Understand?”_  
_Aiba is shaking in the grip Sakurai has around his neck, gasping for breath, limps spasming as Death’s claws tighten, the pressure increasing. Sakurai watches maliciously as he tries to wheeze out a sound – impossible due to the lock he has around the demon’s make-believe throat._  
_“And you do know what I will do to you, should you try and stand in my way. Oh, Aiba-san, I thought you were cleverer than that. He is just a human. You said so yourself. Not worth your life now, is he?” he chuckles, and it sounds twisted and wrong in this world, and Aiba whimpers miserably._  
_When Sakurai finally lets go, the creature slumps to the ground, clawing at his bruised throat, and as Sakurai stares down at him, he witnesses how the disguise is wavering, cracking at the edges like a bad tv-signal, flashing in and out of proportion. It makes him grin cruelly._  
_“You know how worthless your life is to me, Aiba-san. Don’t waste it. For both your sake and mine.” Death tells him, and laughs cynically._  
_He leaves Aiba on the floor, and as he turns around, the pale light from the nothingness outside is allowed in again, the ominous silence broken. With each step he takes away from the demon behind him, his wings shrink further into his back and vanishes, their only proof the huge holes in the back of Sho’s black shirt._  
_He does not catch Aiba’s last trembling mumble behind him. But it does not matter. What can he do anyway? There is no way to change Jun’s mind now, Sho already has him in the middle of his palm, dancing, exposing himself willingly._  
_The door behind the reaper closes, leaving him alone as he descends the stairs again, making his way back to earth and the small circus, the masquerade he has created there. But as his surroundings start to blur and speed up as he falls, faster and faster, the smile on his face falters and his obsidian eyes soften._  
  
  
*  
  
  
The questions they ask are all common, uncomplicated for Matsumoto to answer. Questions he is used to. Answers practised.  
“What was it like working with the director?” – “Can you tell us a bit about the secret actor who plays the villain?” – “How did you go about the task of portraying Akiyama Ryou?”  
And then there are the private questions. Equally easy.  
“So what will your next project be?” – “Are you dating anyone?” – “What do you do when you are not on set?”  
Matsumoto is used to interviews, so avoiding awkward questions and avoiding having to reveal too much is a walk in the park. He praises the director, he praises the other actors, does not reveal anything about Sho, and tells the journalist how he likes to work out in the gym when he has time. He does not mention how he hates being alone in his apartment, how he rarely cooks just for himself, despite being a decent cook, how he always goes out.  
They let him leave without further inquiries, and he makes his way to the set, to watch the filming of Sakurai’s last scene. Matsumoto himself will have one last short cut filmed afterwards; a turning of his head as he hears a familiar voice behind him – or is it in his head? – but there will be no one for him to see.  
Yet the prison cell where Chess is supposed to be is empty.  
Jun loves the open ending the scriptwriter opted for, just the thought of being the one to act it out is thrilling to him, to Ryou. But the best part is that for Jun, it is not the end at all. He will have his own Chess all to himself afterwards.  
  
*  
  
Sakurai is gorgeous even in his white jail clothes, with dark spots marking his arms and neck, where the guards have treated him unwell. But the darkness around his eyes is not caused by too many sleepless nights, it is evidence of his plans of revenge, his hate, his constant waiting for an opportunity. He looks relaxed as he walks back and forth over the stone floor, his feet bare and white in the chillness of the small room. There is no window, only dark grey concrete, no way for him to tell what time it is, whether it is night or day. Despite his actions, it is hard not to feel sorry for him. However, he does not express the least bit of distress, he has not become jittery, crazed, despite the week he has spent alone, has not yelled, has not cried. He just looks like someone who is waiting patiently, waiting for someone, something…  
Jun finds himself smiling as he stands there watching, arms crossed and hip jutting out slightly, hands caught under his arms. He is completely absorbed in the scenery in front of him, and despite the cameras and staff looking on, he only sees the final product, what Sakurai makes one see just by being there, by acting out his character. Just before the director yells the obligatory ‘cut’, Sakurai cranes his neck in a slightly crooked angle, his back towards the camera, and what Jun sees in those eyes of his when they meet the camera lens makes him gasp and he suddenly feels cold. There is darkness in those eyes, pure undulated malice, and it is enough to pierce through any screen. Even after people has started clapping and Sakurai is handed flowers, there is still a quiet buzzing in Jun’s ears, something he rids himself off by shaking his head slightly at himself. Seriously, for him to be so utterly shaken every time Sakurai pulls off this kind of performance, it is almost a bit embarrassing. How he finds himself both frightened and attracted to the actor is beyond his comprehension. He wonders if he will ever find an answer.  
He lets other people shake Sakurai’s hand first, lets Sakurai thank the director and lets the staff get everything in order. Jun does not move from his spot, does not approach him, though he knows that the other man is very much aware that Jun is right there, pretending to wait patiently for his own last scene.  
When Sakurai finally walks towards Jun, steps taken with purpose, there is just no way for Jun to prevent the grin from spreading on his face. Oh well, who cares anyway,  
“As expected of you, Sakurai-san,” he says and has to pretend to ignore how Sho’s big smile makes him feel, “Congratulations on finishing beautifully.”  
Sho bows to him politely, and it is only so amusing because Jun can feel the irony, how Sho secretly mocks their pretence, “Thank you Matsumoto-kun,”  
He moves to walk away, but stops just beside Jun, throwing him a last whispered sentence:  
“I will be in my green room for a while. Good luck with your filming.”  
And Sho’s eyes spark with the same dark light there was in them a minute ago when he faced the camera.  
His is not a whispered request, but a demand, and can Jun refuse?  
  
He does not expect for Sho to so willingly accept a cup of coffee.  
After filming his last scene, after saying his goodbyes and his thank-yous and shaking people’s hands, he does not go to the other actor’s greenroom, though there clearly was an invite. A firm one. Jun knows what will happen should he go in there. It will end up like all those other times, and today, maybe it will go further, because there will be nothing to stop them. And somehow, Jun does not want that to happen. Even if the thought of it leaves his body on fire, even if he does not seem sad at all about his drama filming ending because that just gives him an opportunity to see Sho outside work. If he does go to Sho’s room, what will that make them then? What will they become? He already knows he wants more than just sex – which of course will probably be great no matter when they do it – he wants to get to know the Sakurai Sho who is not an actor. More importantly, Jun has not been romantically involved for a long time, he does not even remember when the last time was, if it happened at all, and he just has a hunch that Sho may expect a lot from him, and he cannot possibly hope to live up to such standards. He _needs_ to take it slow. And he just hopes that Sho can wait for him.  
So it starts with coffee.  
Jun sends Sho a text, ignoring the fact that their green rooms are mere meters apart, asking if he wants to share a cup of coffee, and if so, Jun knows just the place.  
_“There are a lot of things I have wanted to share with you Jun, coffee not included. But I suppose I could indulge you on today’s occasion. As a way of celebrating.”_  
Imagining the tone Sho would use along with the words brings a smile to Jun’s face as he gives Sho the address and asks him to meet him there. Jun is not interested in any of the others on set knowing that he will be drinking coffee with Sakurai Sho. No one needs to know that. So they will go separately.  
The coffee shop is the one Jun frequents often when he is free until midday and does not want to drink coffee alone in his apartment, so he greets the barista behind the counter with a small nod as soon as he enters.  
“Matsumoto-san, welcome. The usual?” the man asks, his broad chest matching his broad smile which always makes the café seem so relaxed, welcoming. One of the many reasons why Jun loves coming here. He never feels too alone in this place.  
With red ears, Jun tries to remain calm when he admits: “Actually, I am meeting someone, so if you will let me wait a few minutes before I order?”  
“Sure thing, just let me know.”  
Jun hopes the barista will not start asking questions later. Though it would not surprise Jun if he did.  
Picking a small table for two in the corner of the room where he is hidden from the view of prying eyes from the counter, Jun can still see if anyone enters the café.  
After having changed to his own clothes; a pair of dark blue jeans and checked shirt along with his black hat, he left the set rather quietly, refusing another one of Kiko’s suggestions of drinks. He has honestly had enough of those, and there are things he would rather spend his time on. Sakurai for instance. Since Jun did not want to be the one entering to find the man already seated, he arrived early, and now trying his best – and failing – to not appear too nervous, he decides to put one hand in his pocket while fingering the glass of water provided for him while he is waiting. He seriously cannot remember the last time he asked anyone out. Satomi was the last person he had coffee with, but he really does not consider that a date. That was a way for Matsumoto to get what he wanted, and it had nothing to do in particular with Satomi’s personality, Jun has no feelings for her as such. So this is very much different. And very much more nervewracking.  
Ten minutes later, the cute chiming of the doorbell announces a customer, and Jun honestly feels his breath hitching in his throat when he sees Sho. For several reasons. On set, Sho was gorgeous in Jun’s eyes no matter what he wore; white loose clothes, or that tight turtleneck showing off his pectoral muscles, but seeing him in faded jeans and a white V-neck shirt has Jun staring. He is absolutely stunning, in a casual way, and even his walk is something Jun finds appealing. Man, he is in deep shit.  
As soon as Sho looks his way, Jun waves a hand at him, and feels stupid. Damn, that was so uncool. He is so rusty at this whole dating thing, and he has to remember that there is a reason why Sakurai accepted his offer.  
“You know, I never imagined you would invite me out for coffee, Matsumoto-kun,” he says as he puts his light, brown jacket on the chair and sits down across from Jun. He is wearing a hint of a smile on his plump lips, and Jun’s heart is beating like crazy.  
“Didn’t imagine me to be a coffee person? You should see me in the morning. I can’t get enough of the stuff.” He is not sure whether he is funny at all, but Sho chuckles and he feels better,  
“No no, not like that. But this is so…” Sho chooses his words carefully while he gets comfortable on the chair, “I mean, aren’t we going backwards?”  
Jun can feel his ears go red, something he definitely does not want to admit to himself, but still answers honestly, “Well, maybe it was just an excuse to see you in a more casual setting,”  
His nerves are making him move the glass around on the table, but he wants Sho to know this. That he is not willing to just bull through the first steps, if there is to be anything between them, it should not just be a casual lay. Jun imagines waking up the morning after, his bed empty, and there is a stab of pain in his chest.  
Sho nods, and then takes Jun off guard by jutting out his lower lip, “I was kind of disappointed you didn’t come to my green room, you know…”  
Jun cannot help it when he chuckles softly, moving his eyes away from Sho in embarrassment. Despite his blushing, the feeling of being off balance which Sho so easily inflicts on him, Jun stands his ground.  
“Let me get us some coffee. What would you like?” Deciding to ignore Sho’s implications, he feels the need to move, to get up and breathe, since he is forgetting how to do that last essential part when he is in the presence of Sho.  
“Hmm…” Sho hums and lifts his eyes to catch Jun’s, a gesture he very well knows the effects of, “You.” Jun swallows, “But, I think I will go for a latte for now, to match the setting.” As he leans back in his chair, Jun finds that he did not even notice Sho moving closer to his face. The realization makes him feel slightly intimidated. Sho’s smirk only makes matters worse. It actually kinda annoys Jun too.  
“Sure, I’ll be right back.”  
Refusing to meet Sho’s eye again, he gets up to walk to the counter, each step awkward, as the blood thunders in his veins.  
“Sato-san, one latte and one cappuccino, please.”  
“Of course.”  
He leans on the counter while waiting, both longing to be back in Sakurai’s company while still dreading it. He is really not sure why his emotions fight each other like this; how he can both long to see the other man’s face the second he turns away, while at the same time somehow never wanting to see it again due to how it makes him feel. Jun has stepped out of his comfort zone, the small bubble he has been living in for all these years, and he finds that emotions are utterly intimidating. His whole being is screaming at him to turn and run, to forget about it all, to go back into his safe, black hole.  
These thoughts swirl in his head as he pays for the coffee and heads back to the table, carrying two large mugs in his hands. Sakurai’s back is facing him, but with every step he takes towards him, his heartrate rises, and he seriously wonders if he is going to end up fainting right here. He has already been so close to Sakurai that he knows that it is not only due to Sakurai’s presence that he feels like this, he knows it is the setting, the circumstances. Has he bitten off more than he can chew after all?  
“Here you are,” he says, as he gets back, presenting the hot beverage in front of Sho.  
Just as he places his own on the table, still standing beside Sho, there is suddenly a hand at his collar, pulling him down. He gasps softly in surprise, and his eyes meet Sho’s. In the second before Sho’s lips meet his, he sees a foreign expression on Sho’s face; no smile, a slight colouring of his cheeks, a want in his dark eyes, before he closes them. The kiss is soft and very brief, a light pressure applied between their mouths, making Jun sigh, feeling his tense limps softening despite the somersaults his heart makes in his chest. When Sho’s hand releases the fabric of his shirt, when he pulls back, Jun slowly opens his eyes to find Sho smiling softly, gently even,  
“Relax.” He tells him, and Jun does.  
He does not know how, but somehow, as easily as that, Sho soothed his nerves, put a lid on his competing emotions, and when he sits down again in front of the actor, he feels a lot better. He even forgets to be embarrassed about Sho kissing him in public. Does not even consider whether anyone saw them. He returns Sho’s smile across the table and brings his cup to his mouth, cradling it in both hands. The coffee smells of cinnamon and warmth, the steam dark and promising, and he enjoys just the comfort it brings between his palms.  
“I don’t often go out for coffee,” Sho tells him, blowing at his latte, “But this place seems really nice. You come here often?”  
Jun takes a couple of seconds to answer, swells in the calm around him, the smell of coffee, Sho’s deep voice,  
“Yes, I do. In the morning, I need coffee to kick-start myself,” he admits, bringing the cup closer to his face as if hiding behind it, “And I prefer to come here, instead of spending the early hours alone,”  
Sho hums in reply, but Jun recognises that he takes in Jun’s words, can see it in Sho’s raised eyebrow, in his soft smile, as if Sho _knows_. Though he could not possibly. Then Sho rests his elbow on the table, head in his hands and Jun finds himself charmed once again,  
“Tell me about your mornings, Matsumoto-kun, in detail” he inquires, and Jun is slightly surprised, “Tell me about your days off work, how do you spend them?”  
It is such a mundane question, seemingly so boring, close to what Jun was asked during the interview with TV Life, but Sho seems honestly interested, and Jun finds himself wanting to tell him everything. Down to every single tiny thing. But he can’t. So he tells Sho how Matsumoto spends his day. How he sleeps in, gets up, cranky until he swallows his first cup of coffee, how he works out or goes for a run, how he sometimes goes shopping, how he meets up with friends, goes out for dinner later, goes to bed after a bath. All boring stuff, but Sho keeps listening, nodding and humming as Jun goes through it all, though the occasional pulling at the corner of his mouth again and again gives Jun the feeling that Sho knows that he is only giving him half of the story. When Jun finishes with a shrug, Sho takes a sip of his coffee, and answers in a nonchalant manner, once again giving Jun that nagging feeling that Sho can see right through him. But there is no way he could.  
“I wonder how a morning together with you would be like.”  
He throws Jun a meaningful look that Jun cannot possibly ignore. Though this time, he lets himself reach out for what Sho is offering at him,  
“Hmm, yes, I wonder,” and grins because Sho’s eyes light up, and Jun finds that expectant glint rather adorable.  
They continue talking about Jun: About the various roles he has played during his career, about his weird love for hats, and when he tells Sho about his interview with TV Life, the other man snorts at their inquiry about him and his role as Chess,  
“Of course, I did not tell them anything. They were not too happy about that,”  
“How do you know that?”  
“Well, it was pretty evident when they mentioned how you had declined their offer for an interview. Apparently, that is quite unheard of with up-and-coming, possibly award-receiving actors,”  
Sho snorts, covering his nose and mouth with his hand,  
“I can’t reveal myself before my appearance in the drama, can I? That would be no fun,”  
“You’re right, you’re right,” Jun laughs quietly though he agrees.  
“What?” there is a smile tugging cutely at the corner of Sho’s mouth as he says this, but Jun waves him off,  
“Nothing, really, it is nothing.”  
“No tell me.” Sho urges, and it just makes Jun laugh again.  
“I am sorry, it just made me remember what the others had to say about you on set. Before they really got the chance to speak with you.”  
Sho furrows his brows, and Jun contemplates whether it is entirely wise to mention this, how will Sho take it? But it is about him, so he does deserve to know. And Jun is curious to see his reaction,  
“Well, they did not have much faith in the director in the beginning, and then you suddenly showed up, seemingly a lot more famous than any of us had any idea about. And you were mysterious. Of course people started whispering.”  
From over the rim of his mug, he watches how Sho’s expression changes at every word, how his eyes become darker, despite the sunlight flowing in through the window, but what emerges in the end is just a wicked grin,  
“Did you whisper too, Matsumoto-kun? Did you also doubt my sincerity?”  
And there it is again, that tugging in Jun, that heat spreading in him, and he contemplates between hitting or kissing that smirk off Sho’s face. In the end, he does neither. Instead, he leans back in his chair, crossing his arms,  
“Hmm, I wonder… I did speculate about you though. You always did disappear quite quickly from set, and you never spoke to anyone beside the director. That was until you crowded me in my green room that is.”  
Sho looks rather proud with himself at that statement, something Jun both likes and dislikes. Arrogant bastard, “I still speculate about you, but hopefully, I can get you to reveal some of those imaginations.”  
Long after they have finished their coffee, they are still there, Jun lost in Sho’s intense eyes, his attentiveness, so much he even forgets to ask about Sho, it is like Sho will not let him. So Jun tells himself there will be another time, and then he will be the one to ask all the questions, will not let Sho have a choice.  
“Thank you for the coffee,” Sho says politely when they both get up to leave, “It was… Nice.”  
Jun cannot help the quiet snort – honestly, Sho does not seem that impressed. Maybe he is just not the regular coffee-kind of guy. But Jun feels good about his decision. In the end, he thinks it turned out rather well.  
“Thank you for joining me, I rarely get company during my coffee breaks here,”  
It does feel like Jun needed this quiet, mundane meeting with Sho, to convince himself that he does not need to act all uptight around Sho, that Sho does not bite as much as Jun expected he would. It makes Jun happy to have spent a leisure time with the other man like this. It makes Jun feel normal.  
They make it out of the store before Jun feels Sho’s fingers close around his elbow. He has stepped closer to Jun when he looks at him, and Jun suddenly feels self-conscious, slightly anxious as to what the other actor is thinking. They are completely exposed out here. If he makes a move, Jun has to stop him, has to reject him. And honestly, that is not something he wants to do. As if he can feel Jun’s reluctance, Sho loosens his grip on Jun’s arm, and his smile looks almost a bit sad,  
“Can I see you again soon?” his voice is low, hesitant even, and Jun is rather taken aback.  
It has only been a few hours – or was it more – since Sho left set, but Jun has already seen several new sides to him, proving that he indeed is more than the rather intimidating first impression Jun got of him. And Jun finds that he likes these newly discovered sides an awful lot.  
There is no way to stop his goofy grin,  
“You have my number,” he tells Sho, and Sho’s unsure smile turns into a grin.  
“That I do. Expect my call soon, Matsumoto. It is my turn to ask you out.”  
And then he lets Jun’s arm go, and Jun already misses his warmth as he waves at Sho before they go in opposite directions.  
On his way home, Jun wonders where Sho lives, if it is also in Tokyo, or maybe farther away. He hopes for the latter.  
  
  
*  
  
  
There is fire. He is on fire. It burns; a searing, tearing pain on his skin, under his skin, his insides are burning. And it is dark, it is so, so dark, he has trouble breathing in the heavy air, there is no oxygen in this terrible darkness, and he is choking. He is dying. He tries screaming, but no sound escapes, there is just silence and silence, endless silence and it is terrifying. He cannot see, he cannot hear. He is afraid that he is deaf, that he is mute. And cannot move, cannot raise his hand, his head, no matter how much he tries, he cannot move from where he is lying, and it _hurts_. He hurts everywhere. And then comes the crows. And he screams again. To no avail, there is still no sound. Still no sound even when the crows land beside him, on his chest, on his arms as if holding him down. Their beaks are sharp and their eyes shining obsidian, staring at him with an emptiness that frightens him. And then there is pain in his arms, in his legs, on his face, they are pecking at his face. He cannot see, they are pecking at his eyes, digging into his chest with their razor sharp beaks, claws tearing at his flesh. And it burns.  
And he screams. But there is no sound.  
  
It is three in the morning, and he sits up in bed, cold to the bone. Shivering under the thick blanket, he stares into the pale bedside lamp, its light doing little to soothe his mind and soul. Jun cannot remember the last time a nightmare scared him so much as it did tonight. It was the same images that he has seen for the last couple of days, but this time it was as if the darkness was darker, the pain more painful, the silence more deafening.  
He swallows shallowly, watching how the rings in his glass of water spread as his hands shake. He closes his eyes briefly, trying desperately to rid himself of the horrifying sceneries and fails. The blanket around his shoulders is not nearly warm enough, the light only making the rest of his room seem darker. Burying his face in one hand, he sighs deeply, albeit unsteadily. He is so terrified of the things his mind creates at night, he is sure he does not dare fall asleep again. And then there is the pain in his chest, a pressure he is unsure where derives from. It has not been this bad before.  
What is happening to him?  
Certain that he will not be able to fall asleep again, he stands up, telling himself over and over again that it is not dangerous to leave his bed and walk into the living room. He feels like a child again, scared to the core of things he cannot see, things that _are not there_. It is so lonely in his apartment, the silence a testament to his solidarity. It reminds him of his dream and he wants to scream. Instead, he swallows the urge, walking quickly towards the television, longing for the comfort of sound, wanting to hear someone talk, fumbling for the remote in the darkness, growing more and more desperate as the seconds tick by, until finally he feels the hard plastic in his palm and he turns on the screen to a random channel. The 24-hour news has a lady with a soft voice announcing the building of a new apartment block for elderly people, and Jun hears himself sigh in relief in the darkness. Again, he closes his eyes momentarily, imagining that he is not as alone as he feels, as he actually is.  
It is so cold.  
His next move is to turn on a few lamps. There is one beside the television, one near his bookshelf, his kitchen lights. He turns them all on, seeing his anonymous, plain surroundings light up, before he pads his way barefoot to the cupboards in the kitchen to make himself a cup of tea. Hopefully, it will make him calm down and he can start reading a book or watch a movie. There is really nothing much to do in the middle of the night.  
When he drops a spoon on accident, he gasps loudly, almost finds himself screaming, and as he realises how stupid that was, how there was no reason to be so scared of such a stupid thing, he brings his hands to his face. He will not cry. He will not cry. But as he crouches down on the marble floor, knees almost touching his face, he feels that terrible tearing at his chest, at his heart which is running a marathon, and he feels so lonely, so lonely.  
The impulse to call Sho briefly pops up in his mind, but he is very quick to shake the thought away. They are not nearly close enough for him to do that.  
Then there is Aiba, but Aiba is his manager, and there is no way Jun can show the man how weak he really feels, no, how weak he really _is_.  
And then there is Nino.  
But Jun has lost count of how many times he has called Nino in the past. Calling Nino is a thing which belongs to his childhood days when he was always crying and he made Nino stay up late into the night just to be there for Jun on the other end of the telephone. Now Jun is a grown-up, and there is no room for tears. No room for his pain.


	7. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**  
He manages to meet up with Aiba that day and tries to take in all that his manager tells him about the drama with the phantom thief – the drama which Jun was interested in, according to Aiba. Jun cannot remember, he is just so tired, and after a couple of hours he excuses himself, catches the worried expression on Aiba’s face before he is out the door.  
On his way home he makes his way past the pharmacy for something against his nightmares, his insomnia, anything.  
But the pills he gets work too well. When he finally falls asleep that night, he is trapped in the nightmare, this time he cannot wake up, and he struggles in vain for hours against the crows and the pain wherever their claws and beaks pierce his skin. In the early morning, he finally struggles out of the deep death-like sleep with a loud gasp, and he instantly sits up in bed, grasping his shirt tightly around his heart, gulping down air in desperate heaves, not being able to get enough oxygen into his lungs. Black spots appear on his vision and he is so dizzy, he wonders whether he is going to faint. But he holds onto consciousness, desperately, and finally his racing heart calms down, his lungs seemingly able to take in air again and he takes a deep breath, closes his eyes.  
He breaks down in tears. Heavy, heaping sobs fill the darkness of his room and he is too exhausted to care. The dreams are too real, the pain so excruciating he has to roll up the sleeves of his shirt, check his legs to make sure he is not covered in open, bleeding wounds. After four hours of sitting alone on the cold kitchen floor, Jun finally calls Nino. When his friend does not answer his first call and he gets voicemail, Jun lets a few tears pour over his cheeks, before he with shaking fingers dials Nino’s number again. _Please, Nino. Please pick up._  
The ringing tone stops and a grainy voice answers, “J? What? Why are you calling so early?”  
It is seven in the morning.  
“Nino-…” his voice breaks when he tries to speak and he struggles when trying to take a few deep breaths and they turn into sobs instead, “I-”  
“Jun-kun? What is the matter? Are you ok?” Ninomiya’s voice is instantly clearer, and Jun feels so guilty when he imagines how Nino moves to sit up in bed. Jun remembers so clearly the worried expression on Ninomiya’s younger face, how he would look so sad when he tried to calm Jun down in the past.  
“I, just… Please just…”  
He is not able to make himself coherent, and Nino sighs on the other end.  
“You haven’t called me like this for years. It must be bad.”  
With a nod that Jun knows Nino cannot possibly see, Jun voices out a shaky sorry.  
There is a rustling on the other end, and Jun hears a faint _‘Just go back to sleep, Oh-chan, I am sorry. I am needed.’_ , and he feels even worse. He tries to swallow the lump in his throat, tries to clear his throat to tell Nino that it is ok, that Nino should go back to Ohno.  
Imagining how Nino has someone to lie next to him every night, to worry for him when he wakes up, causes a stabbing pain to Jun’s heart.  
“Oh-chan is not used to me getting up before him,” Nino tells him from the other end.  
“You should go back to him. I am sorry for calling.”  
“No way, I am up now, aren’t I? Don’t get me out of bed for nothing, Jun-kun. How can I help you?”  
Ninomiya’s straightforward and less than serious way of showing Jun kindness has Jun sniffing again, albeit with a soft smile. There is not much Jun can describe to Nino, not aside from the fact that he is haunted by terrible nightmares which exhaust him to the very core, and he just wishes he could sleep. He just wants to sleep peacefully.  
Knowing there is not anything Nino could possibly do to help, still just talking with his friend makes Jun feel less lonely and it dulls the pain, the fear. He is just so frightened.  
“Jun-kun,” Nino says then, “Why don’t you try calling Sho-chan?”  
Somehow, Jun is not surprised that Nino has already given Sakurai a nickname despite never having met the man. Jun finds that the nickname suits Sakurai so badly that it is almost funny.  
“I- what do you mean? I can’t!”  
“Oh, come on, don’t give me that. If he cares for you – which he clearly does with how you told me he wanted to see you again – he won’t mind taking care of you, do you think? You don’t have to tell him that you are lonely and needs him to hold you tight through your nightmares, obviously, but reach out to him, say you want to see him.”  
“I don’t know Nino…” Jun is honestly unsure whether it is appropriate. But the thought of Sho being the one to keep his imagery at bay; just visioning Sho by his side has Jun’s heart curiously calming down, if just a little.  
“Then no one does. J, don’t be a coward. I am sure Sho-chan would like to be the one you go to for these things, if my perception serves me right, and it usually does. From what you have told me about this Sakurai-guy, he seems a lot better at fighting monsters than I am anyway. Just ask him if he has time to look under your bed. Possibly the closet too. I am sure he will say yes.”  
This time, Nino makes Jun laugh, his voice croaky after the tears. But they have stopped falling, and he feels better.  
“Thank you, Nino.” He says, a small smile on his face, and he means it.  
“I’d like to say ‘anytime!’, Jun-kun, but I don’t think Oh-chan would be too happy about that so… Call Sho-yan next time, ok?”  
  
It is still dark, and early, so Jun makes himself a cup of coffee, turns on some lights and watches the news for half an hour, eats breakfast and takes a shower before he sits down in his sofa to stare at the screen of his phone. It is not that he does not want to speak with Sho, he does, he really _really_ does, but Sho promised to be the one to call him. And Jun does not want to seem clingy, does not want to seem too desperate and needy. That would be unattractive. He tells himself that he is 27 years old and not a shy high-schooler, and he opens his contacts to Sho’s name, once again stalling with his finger over the ‘dial’-button. He cannot do it.  
Jun squeals in shock when his phone suddenly starts vibrating, nearly dropping the device on the floor. His eyes widen when he sees the name on the screen, and his heart skips a beat – did he press the button by accident!? – before he realises how the words ‘incoming call’ proves that Sho is actually the one calling him now, and not the other way around.  
Ok, that is seriously freaky. What are the odds of Sho calling Jun right when Jun contemplated calling him? Did he know? How could he? Jun realises he is putting too much thought into it, and that he is letting Sho wait on the other end. _Ah, what if Sho hangs up before he answers?!_  
Quickly, he presses the green button and with fumbling fingers brings the phone to his ear. He forgets to say anything, and Sho’s answer is hesitant on the other end,  
“Matsumoto-kun?”  
“Ah! Um, Sho-san, hi.”  
_Wow._  
Sho chuckles on the other end, “Hi.”  
Jun’s face feels hot, and he brings a hand up to check the warmth of his cheek. And forgets to answer.  
“Is now a bad time?”  
“Ah, no. No, sorry, I was just… It is nothing. How are you?”  
“I am fine, thank you. Do you have any plans today, Matsumoto-kun?”  
Jun’s teeth worry his bottom lip, “I have an interview and a shooting for AnAn this afternoon, but aside from that, I am free.”  
“Good. Because I was wondering whether you would like to have dinner with me?”  
Jun is surprised that Sho would want to after Jun’s totally uncool way of answering the phone. He wants to hide in a black hole. But then again, if he did, he would not be able to accept Sho’s offer.  
“I would,” his voice is small, his smile big, “If you want to?”  
Sho chuckles again at the other end, and just the sound of it is enough to make Jun’s whole body relax, melting, “I do. That is why I called. I want to see you.”  
Having to chew on his lip again to prevent the grin from spreading, Jun is sure he is utterly and totally red as a tomato. _I want to see you too._ “When should I meet you?”  
“I found a great Italian place I think you will like. Meet me at Roppongi Station at seven?”  
“I will be there.”  
“Great. I look forward to seeing you.”  
After Sho hangs up, Jun realises he has closed his eyes – forgotten when – to fully dwell in the sound of Sho’s deep voice, letting it send vibrations through his whole body. And it dawns on Jun that he missed Sho more than he initially thought. Just talking to him on the phone had a remarkable, almost medical effect on Jun. More importantly, he finds that all of the images from last night have been pushed to the very back of his mind, and that just like that, he is able to forget them. For a while at least.  
  
*  
  
The bags under his eyes have not gotten less dark, and Jun knows he looks exhausted despite his best efforts, when he leaves his apartment. Since he did get sleep last night – albeit uncomfortable sleep – he hopes that his body will let him enjoy this evening, that he will be able to indulge Sho despite his exhaustion. He will force himself to forget the discomfort in every single one of his muscles, if need be. There is nowhere he would rather be tonight than with Sho.  
He just does not consider that Sho so easily recognises his distress.  
The moment he walks up to Jun in front of the station, Jun can see the worry in his dark eyes,  
“Hey.”  
“Hi.”  
“Are you ok? I thought you sounded a bit weird on the phone.”  
First, Jun tries to pretend,  
“It is nothing, I am just not getting enough sleep these days. Please don’t worry about it Sho-san.”  
And then he feels bad because Sho honestly sounded worried, the second time Jun has experienced that happening, and he sort of wishes he could tell Sho everything. But he is too much of a coward.  
Despite his scrutinizing eyes, Sho does not push the matter, and Jun appreciates it when he gestures with his hand for them to start walking. Jun really does not want his insomnia to retain him from being with Sho. He has been stupidly excited since Sho called this morning.  
“So, I came upon this place recently, and though I have not tried it yet myself, when I looked up the restaurant on the internet, there was nothing but high praise and recommendations by customers,” Sho explains as they walk side by side. Somehow, Jun is not entirely surprised that Sho is the type of person to look up everything. “And I got the impression that you like Italian, Matsumoto-kun.”  
Jun raises an eyebrow to which Sho smiles secretively, “How did you know?”  
“Lucky guess?” he shrugs.  
Oh well. It is refreshing for Jun to be with someone who actually manages to read him so well, relaxing even, and as quickly as that, Jun finds himself smiling again. Possibly also just due to the fact that Sho is beside him.  
“Well, you are right actually. I guess I have quite a love for pasta-dishes especially.”  
His answer makes Sho beam at him, and it makes him feel all warm inside. Who could have known that Sakurai could look this happy?  
“Really?”  
“Really.” Jun chuckles.  
“I hope it is as good as people say it is then. You must be an experienced Italian-eater.”  
The sun is setting behind the tall buildings in Roppongi, and Jun swells in the last streaks of warm sunlight he can feel on his face. It seems as though spring is finally arriving. Jun feels like he has waited forever for the chill in the air to lift, for the frosty mornings to end. It seems he can soon ditch his scarf and dig out his leatherjacket again. The silence settles between them for a few minutes, Jun trying to come up with a thing to ask Sho; he has so many questions for him, he does not know where to begin, whether to begin at all or just let Sho talk about it himself. But then again, he does not seem like the type to throw around random info about himself.  
In the end, Sho beats him to it.  
“How did your shooting for that magazine go?”  
“It went well, I suppose. The photographer for AnAn always manages to surprise me. The managers have a knack for finding good people, to bring in the best talents, I don’t know how they do it, but the pictures always turn out really well.”  
Sho hums, signifying his attention, “Do you look at your pictures after the shoot?”  
“I do. I guess I am a bit of a perfectionist, so I want to make sure they turn out ok,” Jun scratches the back of his head.  
“Being a perfectionist is not bad thing. Look at how all your roles have turned out in your various dramas and movies. They’re all brilliant. And that is because you work so hard.” Jun swears that the way Sho looks at him then, wide smile on his face, makes him feel prouder than he has ever felt. He actually feels that he has done something right. Someone thinks he has done well, and it makes him so childishly delighted.  
He smiles shyly, “Thank you.”  
They stop in front of a cosy-looking restaurant with a low roof and big windows. From outside, Jun can see the small, cute tables and the warm candles, the waiters and the big plates of delicious food. From the roof of the building, vines are making their way down the supporting pillars, creating a sense of actually being in Italy. Jun finds it to be a cute detail. Despite the plant’s genuineness being rather questionable.  
Sho opens the door for them to enter, holds it for Jun, and they are greeted by a waiter who quickly finds Sho’s name in his reservation book, before showing them the way towards their table. They find their seats in the least lit corner of the restaurant where they can keep an eye on all the other tables, on the big window and the lights outside, as well as see what is going on in the open kitchen, where a couple of seemingly Italians with sweaty faces are working hard, their cheeks round and red. Sho has really considered everything when choosing this particular table.  
The waiter hands each of them a menu and a wine card for sharing, “I will be back in a few minutes with bread and water,” he tells them before leaving.  
Sho looks at Jun over the red menu he is holding, half of his face hidden behind the leather bindings. His eyebrows rise, “So, what do you think?”  
“I think it looks really nice,” Jun admits, giving Sho a small smile, “And you really went out of your way to get us the perfect table.”  
“No reason for two actors to expose the fact that they are dining together. People will talk.”  
Jun removes his gaze from Sho’s intense, tempting eyes, and skims over the menu, the appetizers and the soups.  
“Go ahead and choose whatever you like,” Sho says, his eyes too on the various dishes.  
Feeling tempted by the traditional bruschetta and the antipasti platter, Jun thanks Sho, ignoring his inner question to himself of when someone last told him to ‘get whatever he’d like’, since that would only make him feel lonely.  
When the waiter returns, Sho gestures for Jun to start first, and after making sure that it is really ok for him – throwing Sho a last questioning look which Sho just smiles at – he orders the antipasti platter with the thought of maybe sharing some with Sho, and then the pasta Pescatore. He fidgets with his menu while Sho orders mozzarella and tomato salad as his appetizer and a traditional lasagne as his entrée. Having listed the things on his small notepad, the waiter then asks for their choice of drinks,  
“Would you like to choose a wine, Matsumoto-kun?” Sho turns his gaze from the waiter to Jun.  
Jun picks up the wine menu, briefly running his eyes over the names and considering what would go well with their appetizers.  
“We’ll have the 1999, Pinot Grigio. Thank you.”  
Only when Sho smiles knowingly at him with his chin resting in his palm, does Jun consider whether the other man knew about Jun’s interest in wine. Somehow, Jun would not put it past him. But how Sho knows is something Jun cannot quite comprehend. So he chooses to ask after the waiter leaves.  
“How did you know about my interest in wine?”  
Sho shrugs like it is not a big deal, leaning back in his chair, “I was just guessing. Since you told me you like Italian, I just assumed you knew something about the wines that go well with the food. I am not really an expert on wine myself.”  
“I wouldn’t call me an expert but…”  
Jun finds himself grinning again, playing with the napkin in his lap to distract himself.  
“You are definitely better than me. You even pronounced the name of the wine like a professional,”  
“I did not,” Jun laughs.  
“You didn’t? Ok, you didn’t. You pronounced it wrong then.”  
“What? No that’s not what-“ Sho’s teasing grin renders him unable to save that one and he just shakes his head with an embarrassed laugh.  
Despite the cosy surroundings, the lovely pictures on the yellow walls and the candles flickering in the corner of their gloom, Jun is constantly drawn to Sho’s eyes, how they sparkle, their light the brightest when he laughs and small crinkles appear in the corners of his eyes. Jun finds Sho so gorgeous that he cannot turn away, despite his nerves and his violently beating heart. He feels absolutely special to be allowed to be here with the other actor, to be the one Sho chose to ask out.  
“You look better now,” Sho says suddenly, when the empty plates from their appetizers are taken away, and Jun is confused, “Maybe it is the food and the warmth, but you look livelier and you are smiling.” Jun looks at him through his eyelashes, catching Sho’s gentle expression when he continues, “I am glad.”  
Whether it is just the lights or the faint flush to Sho’s cheeks is real, Jun is not sure, but it is evident that Jun’s state has been on Sho’s mind, he has been genuinely worried, even if he has not said anything after Jun told him off. When Jun does not answer, Sho’s smile falters. And Jun knows if he does not want to brush Sho off, push him away, he will have to talk about it now, recognize his problems, so he wipes his mouth before he proceeds to lay the napkin in his lap,  
“I have been ridden by insomnia for a couple of nights now,” He admits, avoiding Sho’s gaze by smoothing out the wrinkles of the tablecloth, “When I close my eyes, I have these horrible nightmares. I have no idea why. I have had trouble sleeping before but… It has never been this bad.”  
Okay, the last detail may be only half a truth. He was haunted by nightmares when he was younger, but those were very much different, and it has been so long since those visions plagued him. Also, the recent ones seem even realer, closer somehow. The pain he feels in his dreams is as insufferable as any true pain.  
The expression on Sho’s face is enough to make Jun feel bad for telling him. Maybe it would have been better for Jun to just have kept his mouth shut, as opposed to sharing his worries. Sho is biting his bottom lip, brows slightly furrowed, eyes sad. Jun wants to remove that expression, why is Sho looking so sad for him?  
“I am sorry to burden you with this, Sho-san-”  
“No such thing.” Sho cuts him off, and suddenly reaches for Jun’s hand.  
Sho’s palm is warm in his, and Jun allows Sho to twine their fingers together; they seem to fit so well, and Jun notes how it does not feel awkward, how it only warms him. It is even more soothing than Sho’s voice on the phone.  
“Please don’t hesitate to tell me if something worries you, plagues you even. I want to listen. I want to help,” Sho tells him, and Jun in turn bites his lip. He could never have imagined how a dinner could make such a big difference for him, to just be in someone’s company.  
“Really?”  
Honestly, he cannot believe Sho is giving him this offer. It is as if the other man knows exactly how Jun has been dying to tell someone, for someone to listen to him and for them not find it annoying or tiring. He returns the squeeze Sho gives his hand.  
“Really. And I hope this evening can make you forget your discomfort. Even just a little.”  
Sho has lowered his voice and bends slightly forward to catch Jun’s lowered gaze. Jun finds that he desperately wants to reach across the table and kiss Sho. But that will have to wait.  
“Thank you. Honestly, it is helping. Being here... It helps.”  
When Sho leans back then, he automatically lets go of Jun’s hand. Jun already misses the warmth, though he sees the reason why Sho let go when the waiter arrives with their pasta.  
“That is good.”  
The food looks delicious and is beautifully plated and they both dig in with vigour. When Sho moans in bliss from his side of the table, Jun catches his expression and cannot help but grin. Sho looks like he is in heaven and sags in his chair,  
“This tastes so good.”  
Jun agrees. The pasta is cooked perfectly, the mussels are soft, the scrimps crunchy, a nice distraction and change of topic. It is safe to say that Sho really knows where to take someone, this place is ridiculously good. The waiter arrives with a new bottle of wine as they have emptied the first one – Jun cannot even remember how that was possible, but Sho does not say anything, just nods his thanks at the waiter.  
“Do you like yours?” Sho asks him then, nodding towards Jun’s pasta.  
Maybe Jun did not express his delight well enough. He aims his grin at Sho, “It tastes wonderful. Really.” And then he takes a leap, “Wanna try it?”  
They change their dishes, so Jun can try Sho’s lasagne too, and he has to admit he understands Sho’s reaction. He cannot remember if he ever had such a good lasagne.  
Jun watches then as Sho digs in for a mussel, and at the first taste he releases another sigh, earning Jun’s chuckle. Sho looks positively glowing, and Jun is sure he could watch the man eat forever. Never has he witnessed anyone eat with such pure happiness on their face, it is truly a joy to see.  
“Can I keep this?” Sho asks then, and Jun is not completely sure whether he is serious or joking, his eyes wide in a childish manner.  
“No way,” Jun laughs, “You can’t. You chose something else.”  
Sho grumbles miserably, handing Jun’s plate back, albeit reluctantly, while he sucks on his fork as if the taste of seafood still lingers. Jun wonders if Sho realizes how erotic the action looks, Sho’s full lips framing the silver cutlery, and Jun stares. How can he not?  
That is when it probably dawns on Sho what exactly he is doing to the person in front of him, and his eyes gleam and he grins wickedly, teeth scraping on steel. Quickly, his eyes flicker from Jun’s face to his plate and back, resting on Jun’s mouth. Jun has completely forgotten about his food, hands frozen in place around the edges of his plate. He licks his lips, causing Sho’s grin to widen.  
“Hurry up and finish eating.”  
Sho’s voice is so much darker when he breaks the silence, and Jun swallows, his mouth dry. Yes. Yes, he should finish the food.  
Sad to say, the taste of the rest of his food is almost wasted, he has a hard time enjoying it as Sho’s black eyes holds his attention in an iron grip. He hardly even senses it when the waiter takes his plate away, clears their table, hands Sho the receipt. And Sho looks utterly amused and focused with a sole purpose, eyeing Jun with intent.  
“Now, I had planned for us to share a dessert,” He tells Jun, clearing the air just a little bit, and it lets Jun blink a few times, trying to calm down his spiking nerves, “Tiramisu maybe. But I think we will save that for another time. I think your energy has reached its limits, hasn’t it?”  
It is not until now that Jun realises how dizzy he actually feels, the edges of his vision slightly blackening. It is the combination of it all: His exhaustion, the wine, the warmth in the restaurant, his full and content belly and then Sho’s hot stare, his intoxicating presence. How underhanded.  
He clears his throat, finally wrestling his eyes away from Sho’s form to look towards the door, “Yes, I think that would be for the best. I should get home, get some rest. Though, I don’t want to…” What he says last is out of his mouth before he has time to stop it, he blurts it out in his unbalanced state, and does not manage to catch the way Sho’s pupils dilate dangerously.  
“Let me follow you home,” Sho says then, and it makes Jun’s heart skip, his eyes immediately flickering back to Sho.  
“Home? Oh, that’s… That’s kind of you, Sho-san, but I don’t think it will be necessary.”  
His heart is thundering in his ears now, his nerves in pandemonium. He cannot let Sho take him home, he cannot. He cannot show him how he lives, his empty cold life. No. No no no. It is too early.  
But Jun is kind of drunk, he is exhausted, he is scared of being alone, and when Sho speaks in a stern tone next, Jun realises that this is it. If he lets Sho take him home tonight, this will be their last moment together, he is sure of it.  
“Nonsense.” Sho tells him, eyes boring into his. This is an order, “You need someone to support you on your way home. I do not want you to accidentally tumble into some stranger. I will see you home safely.”  
Jun looks at him, pleading, but he knows that it will not work. Sho will not have it.  
And so, as they get up to leave, he feels Sho’s hand gently at his elbow, more nudging than leading, and his resolve shatters.  
They do not talk much as they walk, Jun focusing on Sho’s guiding hand towards the train, following him, showing Sho the way to Jun’s apartment, but at one point Sho surprisingly takes his hand, fingers nudging their way in between Jun’s. And Jun realises that he wants this. He wants Sho by his side on his way home. He wants Sho to be the one to guide him in his solitude, in the darkness, towards warmth and safe sleep. Dwelling in the feeling of Sho’s warm hand in his own, Jun closes his eyes briefly, and forgets his loneliness.  
  
First, Jun expects Sho to leave him at the door to the apartment building. Then, Jun expects Sho to say his goodbyes in front of his room at the 6 th floor. When Sho is suddenly standing in Jun’s genkan, shoeless, with his arms at his sides and an unreadable light in his eyes, Jun knows that Sho will not leave him tonight. He wonders if this was a planned or a spontaneous act. Knowing Sho, there is just no way it was the latter.  
The cold he has always felt from the walls of his home, the darkness in the corners, the vast, unfamiliar space, the empty frames, Sho does not pay it any mind. With eyes firm on Jun, zeroed in even while Jun removes his hat, his jacket and hangs them on the rack, he does not move, does not remove his own clothes. Just as Jun starts to worry, afraid that he has done something wrong, said something wrong – or what he did not say was wrong – Sho takes a big step forward, crowding Jun’s space; his breath is on Jun’s lips, his eyes molten and intense, and Jun’s breath hitches in his throat.  
His imagination goes wild.  
“Jun.”  
It is a hot whisper on his face, a request, a promise, a warning before Sho’s mouth meets his, and Jun finds himself wrapping his arms around Sho’s neck, bringing him closer, bringing him in, into his empty, narrow life.  
He feels himself being pushed to the wall, Sho’s knee urgently forcing his thighs apart, one hand on the small of Jun’s back, the other holding onto his jaw to tilt Jun’s head to his liking. Between sucks and nibbles, between teeth and tongue, Jun is moaning and Sho is growling deeply in approval, a vibrating sound from his throat.  
“I am sorry,” he says suddenly, and Jun hardly catches the words with how busy he is with removing Sho’s jacket from his shoulders, slipping his fingers underneath Sho’s shirt to feel how his abdominal muscles move beneath his fingertips.  
“Don’t-” he breathes out before Sho catches his lips again and renders him unable to answer.  
Maybe he is not as sorry as he tries to sound, swallowing any complaints Jun might have had.  
Sho’s skin is hot, his stomach taunt, and Jun cannot wait to get rid of the fabric obscuring the view, retaining him from seeing Sho, touching him, fusing with him. There is hot breath in his mouth, pants and gasps when Sho moves his sinful mouth down to suck at his neck, his collarbones,  
“I love this,” he mouths against Jun’s left clavicle, “I hope you have more hidden marks just like it,” referring to Jun’s mole just above the bone.  
Jun briefly drags his nails over Sho’s abs, causing the other man to hiss,  
“Careful.” Sho leans more of his weight against Jun, his leg now rubbing against the bulge in Jun’s jeans, and Jun feels a hand snaking around to cup his ass, giving it a squeeze before Sho bites his shoulder,  
“Show me your bedroom, Jun, will you?” Jun cannot comprehend how Sho has air to talk, when he feels completely reduced to moans, the sensations running through his path of nerves like electric current.  
“Ye- Yes-“ his breath sounds strangled, and despite Sho’s request, Jun is still trapped against the wall, trying feebly to wiggle his way out of Sho’s grasp.  
He can feel Sho’s erection against his thigh, and with the weak state he is in, it makes white spots appear behind his eyelids when his eyes roll back at the sensation – he is impatient, cannot wait now that he finally has Sho here, but knows that he probably will not have to wait long with the urgency Sho is handling him with.  
When Sho finally loosens his grip around Jun’s waist, letting his jaw go, Jun can back slowly towards the bedroom he knows the way to, even in the darkness; an ability he will need with the way Sho refuses to let their mouths part. Jun desperately holds onto Sho’s upper arm for support as he with the other hand feels his way along the walls until he reaches the door to his bedroom.  Even when it is Jun showing the way, opening the door and letting them stumble inside, it is Sho who is the guide, the force telling them where to go, what to do, and Jun just sighs as Sho does what he pleases.  
“On the bed,” Sho tells him, mouth against his ear, breath tickling before he sucks on Jun’s earlobe, making Jun whimper as a shiver settles between his thighs as a contraction.  
Jun cannot do anything but obey, sitting down on the edge of the bed, and suddenly he feels a chill between the two of them, blinking and realising that Sho has taken a step back, splitting them apart and opening the gap between them. He is about to ask what is going in, his brain slower than his body, when Sho starts to unbutton his shirt, eyes never leaving Jun, his obsidian gaze holding Jun completely still. Sho does not need his hands to keep Jun from moving, his eyes alone are authority enough for him to sit tight, breath caught in his throat when Sho slowly, slowly lets the white shirt slide over his shoulders, down his arms. The man throws the shirt away from himself, standing in front of Jun in all his glory, seemingly almost knowing how Jun’s muscles shake in anticipation. With Sho standing there, only wearing his black jeans, Jun lets his eyes take in everything: Sho’s ebony skin, his protruding pectorals, his angled, but strong shoulders, the beautiful lines of his biceps, his subtly defined abs, the way the jeans hang low on his hips. When his eyes finally make their way back to Sho’s face, Sho is smiling wickedly, knowingly, his jet black side-cut making him look dangerous and powerful, and Jun knows that there is no way this creature will let him back out now, no way he will let Jun escape.  
In the dim light of the room, Jun can see how Sho’s pupils are blown, his eyes hungry and when he takes a step towards Jun again, Jun finds himself moving closer to the centre of the bed, away from Sho, before he can help himself, it is a natural reaction. Their eyes are constantly connected, even as Sho puts his hands on the bedsheets, crawling his way over to Jun,  
“You are not fleeing now are you? Are you nervous?” and his voice is so deep, so dark, sending ripples of pleasure over Jun, causing him to moan without Sho even touching him.  
“Fuck, Jun.”  
And then Sho is over him again, blocking his vision as he knocks him down, hand grabbing roughly onto locks of Jun’s hair, pulling bordering painfully, fingers on Jun’s face, his neck, his chest, and buttons are wristed almost roughly apart. He sucks the moans from Jun’s mouth, any possible protests swallowed and oppressed. Jun instantly wraps his arms around Sho’s naked torso, arching his back up against Sho, aching for his touch, to feel him move against him, inside him. He wants it so badly, practically begging for it when he wraps one leg around Sho’s waist, rubbing their clothed cocks together. They both sigh deeply, and Sho’s movements turn even sloppier, more hurried, “Strip,” he growls against Jun’s lips, “Strip.”  
Jun reluctantly lets go of Sho to fumble with his shirt, practically ripping it from his shoulders, throwing it as far away as possible, while he lifts his hips to let Sho pull his pants down. Sho’s jeans are next and both pairs get thrown to the wind as well.  
Then time seems to slow down again, while they pant, chests rising and falling, Sho’s arms framing Jun’s head, his black gaze back on Jun’s face, scrutinizing, studying as his eyes run over all of Jun’s features slowly. Jun has no idea what he is thinking behind that unreadable expression, and as the seconds tick by, he feels his growing consciousness, his embarrassment,  
“What?” he realises he is whispering, his throat dry.  
Sho licks his lips, and his chest expands as he takes a deep breath, “Nothing.” He answers, a smile suddenly making its way onto his face, a creak in that dark appearance, “You are just so beautiful.”  
And as Jun feels himself forgetting how to breathe, Sho ducks down to place a kiss against his chest, trailing random patterns around his pectorals, the lower part of his throat. The effect is instantaneous, Jun’s skin hypersensitive to the feeling of Sho’s incredibly soft, firm lips marking their way across the expanse. With his cock straining against his boxers, Jun hears his own mewls in his ears, one more pathetic than the next. He clutches desperately at the covers around him, wiggling under the weight of Sho’s body, and suddenly Sho chuckles darkly, the sound doing things to Jun’s already overheated brain,  
“You are so sensitive.” Just Sho’s breath by his ear is enough to make Jun shiver, raising goose bumps on exposed skin.  
Sho raises his head to run his hand down Jun’s side, making Jun inhale sharply. “So responsive,” The pressure of a palm against his hipbone, “Who knew the cool celebrity Matsumoto Jun could so easily come apart by just the smallest…” Sho rubs his thumb gently over Jun’s hardening nipple, and Jun arches his back with a whine, “Stroke.”  
Another chuckle, and then Sho ducks down again, this time taking Jun’s nipple between his lips. And Jun trashes, causing friction between their bodies, their lower halves meeting again.  
“Please,” he hears himself say, closes his eyes as the pleasure is almost too much, bordering painful, Sho’s hot mouth molesting his nipples in turn, nibbling and licking, bolts of sensations causing Jun’s cock to twitch and strain, and Jun is sure he cannot take it anymore. He does not care anymore. He will come if Sho continues like this, “Please, just…”  
He sighs in relief when Sho moves his mouth back to Jun’s neck, his ear, thus making it possible for Sho to put more of his weight on Jun’s body, “Are you close Jun? We haven’t even started preparing you yet.”  
Jun shakes his head, he is panting so hard that he cannot understand how he is getting enough air into his lungs, “I am sorry.”  
His words makes Sho laugh low, and the small break to all the sensations, the sensations which are too alien and too much – it has been too long for Jun, too long without human contact – is a relief to Jun, makes his body relax slightly again, the tension shrinking.  
“Perhaps we should have been more prepared for that.” Sho says then, and Jun gasps in shock when Sho’s hand suddenly moves boldly inside his boxers to grasp a firm hold around the base of Jun’s hard cock, “If only I had known, I could have brought something against this.” And then he increases the pressure around Jun’s erection, cutting off the flow of blood, and Jun understands and he throws back his head in a moan, to which Sho chuckles against his skin, teeth raking gently over his exposed Adam’s Apple.  
“I am going to fuck you so hard, Jun, whether you come before me or not,” Sho rasps out, and it is enough for Jun to see stars. He wants to beg Sho to speed up, to get to it, but he does not need to, because Sho is already working on moving his boxers away with one hand while his other still has a firm hold around Jun, to prevent him from coming too soon.  
“I need you to hold on for me,” Sho whispers, teasingly moving his thumb over the head of Jun’s cock, and Jun’s eyes spring open as he moans, unstable, close to the edge, “Hold on for me, Jun, while I go grab the lube.”  
Sho takes Jun’s hand into his and guides it down between Jun’s legs to substitute Sho’s tight hold there, forcing three of Jun’s fingers to take the base of Jun’s erection into an iron hold.  
As soon as Sho is satisfied, he sits back on his heels, moving away from Jun who is panting hard, swallowing with some difficulty as he sees what he is doing to himself. He is so embarrassed and so aroused, the latter making him forget the former when he notices the outline of Sho’s erect cock against his boxers.  
“I will be back shortly,”  
And then Sho moves out of the room, and Jun lies back, his head hitting his soft pillows and it gives him a small moment to think, to consider what it is he is doing, to let his brain work, which is not a good idea, because he suddenly realises where he is at. And he feels humiliated. For Jun to witness this side of himself. For him to be so shockingly submissive to every wish that Sho has.  
When warm hands move up his thighs, he does not raise his head to look at Sho, he stares at the ceiling, biting his lip, unable to fight his body’s desires. And he tries to be quiet when there are suddenly soft swipes of tongue against his inner thighs, but it is close to impossible, a hiss moving over his lips before he can bite them so hard that it almost draws blood. He feels how Sho’s fingers grab onto his leg to raise it, expose him, and at the realisation, Jun objects quietly, incomprehensibly. He is trying so hard to fight it, not to give in, but then teeth dig into soft, white flesh and he moans again, unable to keep his eyes open. His one unoccupied hand shoots down to grab Sho’s black hair, pulling slightly to get him somewhere – Jun is not quite sure which way in his haze – body moving accordingly, all thoughts now left behind. Sho strips it all away.  
And it dawns on Jun that he still has a hand around himself when the warmth vanishes from his thighs, and Sho surprisingly closes his mouth over the head of his cock.  
“Sho!” he gasps out, unable to stop himself.  
The actor just hums around his erection as he moves further down, swallowing more of him, and Jun wants to cry out, to sob, his other leg moving up too, head thrashing as he tries to hold back. But still he keeps the grip around himself firm, disabling him from coming, and he knows Sho approves when he gives Jun’s cock a parting suck with a loud, wet noise, “Good, Jun.” he breathes at the side of Jun’s mouth, moving over him, one hand beside Jun’s head, supporting the weight of his body.  
The distance between them is closing, and when their erections accidentally bump against each other, Jun realises that Sho has ditched his boxers too, the thought causing his body to tremble.  
“I like how you taste,” Sho tells him, dragging his wet mouth against Jun’s open one, as Jun continues to pant. He closes his eyes briefly, catching Sho’s gaze when he opens them again, and he manages to raise an arm to put it against the back of Sho’s head, pulling him down for a messy, wet kiss.  
It does not last long, they are both on their last ounce of patience, and Jun realises this when he feels a cool prodding against his entrance, moving gently around the ring of muscle, softening it,  
“Sho,”  
A kiss against the underside of his mouth, before the finger moves in and Jun grunts, trapping his lip between his teeth again, his only way of muffling the pathetic sounds he makes.  
The sensation is like nothing else, an intrusion which feels both alien and wrong, but also welcome, and Jun clenches, his toes curling. Sho’s teeth rake on his cheek, his breath sticky, as he focuses on moving his finger in and out, prodding without it being painful. Nails across his shoulder blade tells Sho to take it further, and he inserts the second finger which causes Jun to clench around the two digits again, while Jun pants and stills in his movement, waiting for the pain to turn to pleasure, for his muscles to give way and stretch.  
“That’s right,” a voice tells him against his sweaty neck, “Relax.”  
Sho gently scissors him and the wet, delicious sounds in Jun’s ears make him so aroused, eventually making him raises his hips to have Sho’s fingers go deeper, to have them grace just… that… spot. And Jun whines, spreading his legs wider in reaction to the shock running down his spine.  
He feels the smile against his skin, and then a third finger forces its way into him, but this time the pain is welcome, the stretching wonderfully electric, and Jun is so out of it that his hips rise and fall in the rhythm of Sho’s moving fingers,  
“Eager.” Sho’s voice laced with dark lust which would have been enough to send Jun tumbling over the edge if it was not for his desperate hold around his own pulsating cock.  
Jun shakes his head, on the border of desperation, and he arches up against Sho, to which Sho growls darkly, “Well okay then.”  
There exists only the warm, coiled sensation inside Jun, Sho’s presence and hot skin against his, Sho’s completely black eyes, his need to feel full, the sheets beneath him keeping him from falling, and then there is the head of Sho’s cock against his hole, Sho’s cock moving in slowly, and he keens, outright wails as Sho moves deeper and deeper. And he pants, focusing on the lewd sounds, the wonderful sensation of being full, the pleasurable feeling of Sho’s hands against the back of his knees, his kisses to Jun’s stomach, his soothing hums. He finally gets it, what he has been craving for so long, ever since he saw Sho for the first time. And Sho delivers.  
Sho grabs hold of his hips and for the last push into Jun, he pulls Jun hips slightly towards him, groaning in pleasure against Jun’s gasp of pain. Then he stops for just the briefest of minutes, their pants of different sensations mingling in the bedroom, the anticipation almost a current in the air, cracking, and slowly, gently, Sho starts testing the waters, rocking just softly, his length moving inside Jun, and from then on the pain is slowly devoured by indescribable pleasure. Jun almost loses his grip around himself when he moans, Sho hitting something _just_ right inside him, something which erases the painful overstretching and causes bliss to blur his vision, to render him unable not to ask for more, to start moving along with Sho as he increases his pace.  
“You. Feel. So. Good.” Each of Sho’s words is punctured by a thrust, and Jun senses how Sho is losing control as they continue, as Jun has no control over how he continues to clench tight around Sho’s cock, every time causing Sho to groan and crane his neck, his dark bangs obscuring his eyes, “Fuck, fuck. Jun.”  
Jun wants him to go faster, to go deeper, and so, he leans up, licking against Sho’s open mouth, “Sho,” making the man look at him, and then he falls back on the mattress again, wraps his legs around Sho’s waist, pulling him in deeper. They both moan, “More, please, I want more.”  
And Jun can see something snap in Sho, something flashing across his face, after which he suddenly picks up his speed, hands on Jun’s hips digging deeper, and he thrusts turn rougher. If Jun did not know there was an end of him before, he knows now as Sho hits it, and hits it again, and he calls Sho’s name, wrapping himself tightly around Sho’s frame, arm circling his upper body, nails digging into his skin, and their desperate breaths collide and the feeling of being filled up again, and again, and again eventually has Jun letting go of his own cock, and he realises how close he is. He gasps loudly, outright sobs when Sho changes his angle, grabs a hold of Jun’s leg to lift it to his shoulder and he rams into Jun, hitting perfectly, once, twice, thrice, and Jun cannot hold it back anymore, already past his limit, closes his eyes hard, his whole body turning in on itself, so he can practically feel every inch of Sho’s cock inside him, before he clenches hard and comes with a wail between them, come released between bodies, onto their abdomens, but Jun does not have time to feel dirty. He feels how Sho drives through Jun’s orgasm, thrusting close to violently into him, milking him for all that he is worth, and in the almost unbearable bliss of his undoing, Jun thinks he sees the room being briefly illuminated, Sho’s eyes flickering and shining. But later he will blame it on the mind-blowing orgasm he had, on the sensation of Sho continuing to move in him, continuing to fuck him harder and harder until he comes too with a guttural groan followed by Jun’s name, before he collapses on top of Jun, both of them completely out of breath.


	8. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**  
In the morning, he awakens first. Sunlight through the white curtains is tickling his nose and he blinks, taking in his surroundings through a groggy fog of a good night’s sleep. Thanks to the light and the blanket over his naked body, he does not feel cold at all. He is surprised at how warm he feels, how content, and relaxed all the way into his bones.  
There is no sound but the far traffic on the streets below, the honking and murmuring announcing the awakening of the city, and the soft sound of breathing.  
Sho looks away from the window to let his gaze fall to the dark mop of hair right before his eyes. Jun is breathing heavily in his arms, chest rising and falling in a relaxed rhythm, and Sho finds himself unable to tear his eyes away from the beauty lying completely exposed in his sleep, bangs falling softly across his brow, covering one eye, lips full and closed as he breathes through his nose. His head is cushioned on Sho’s arm, and even if Sho feels the unpleasant prickling sensation, a warning to his sleeping limp, he does not have the heart to move it. With Jun’s warm body, his calming presence in Sho’s embrace, there is nowhere Sho would rather be.  
He does not know whether he fully planned what happened last night, whether he has been in control at all for the past few months. Hell, nothing has gone according to plan since he met Jun.  
Like this, Sho feels a strange sensation in his stomach, a fullness, yet a hunger to wrap his arms even tighter around this lovely creature in his arms, a will to pull him even closer, to have him stay here forever and after that.  
Closing his eyes, he buries his face in the nape of Jun’s neck, his hair tickling Sho’s nose as Sho inhales his scent, sighing.  
  
Jun stirs in his arms, a soft whining noise bubbling in his throat as he moves his legs, and then, as if he remembers Sho’s presence, he allows himself to snuggle further into the pillows, moving backwards, closer into Sho’s embrace, his back against Sho’s chest. And Sho feels even warmer. For several reasons with Jun this close. His arms wrap tighter around the soft body and he hides his eyes in Jun’s hair, humming into the dark locks. A few minutes pass with them in this position, before Jun makes a bigger movement, and Sho has to reluctantly move his arms away. He does not feel as regretful though, when Jun’s sleepy eyes and puffy lips come into view as he turns, his face so close to Sho’s that he can feel his morning breath. But that is not a bother at all.  
He cannot help but answer the smile which blooms on Jun’s face, growing until his eyes shine,  
“Hi.” Jun says, voice giddy and Sho can feel how his own smile grows ridiculously big.  
“Hi.”  
He fingers Jun’s bangs, brushing them out of his eyes, letting his attention flicker all over Jun’s gorgeous face, which is gorgeous even now, in the morning. He is sure this is the most stunning being he has ever laid eyes on. And when Jun’s cheeks turn a charming shade of pink, it is utterly irresistible.  
“Don’t look at me like that,” Jun says and buries his face in Sho’s chest.  
Sho knows he is completely smitten, and Jun is only worsening the disease. He chuckles, circling his arm around Jun again, hands caressing his shoulder blades, his sides, the contact causing goose bumps to grow on white skin. Listening, he can hear Jun’s soft intakes of breath, evidence of his sensitivity despite him cutely trying to hide it. It only makes Sho very bold and as one hand gently massages Jun’s nape, the other slides down Jun’s back to his pretty ass.  
As Jun finally lifts his head – probably to protest – when Sho’s fingers tease the cleft, Sho takes the chance to grab a firm hold of an ass cheek, fingers only gently tickling Jun’s hole, and squeezes. Just to get his wishes across. The reaction is instant, and Sho is glad that Jun decided to look at him in this very moment, so Sho can catch how Jun’s lips firm an O when he gasps. Jun’s hand shoots up to grab a firm hold on Sho’s upper arm, and Sho just cannot help the grin, cannot help feeling pleased as shots of arousal make their way down to his cock. Despite Jun trying his best to look stern, balling one hand into a fist which he prods against Sho’s pectoral, Sho lets his hand stay where it is, tracing random patterns on soft skin,  
“Oi, Sakurai, it is way too early for your games.” Jun says, a tinge of annoyance deep in his voice.  
“Not a morning person?” Sho answers back smugly and it only amuses him more when Jun furrows his brows.  
“No.”  
“What then? You need coffee first? That can be arranged.”  
Jun is silent after that, staring at a point on Sho’s upper body, avoiding his eyes. Is he sulking? Considering? It is insanely cute, and in the end, Sho just chuckles.  
“Alright, I’ll get you coffee,” When he moves to get up, Jun instantly moves onto his elbows, allowing the blanket to slide further down his body, revealing his naked chest, his hips, and Sho ogles shamelessly.  
Jun has grabbed hold of Sho’s wrist, “No! I mean… Stay. Just a little longer. I promise I will get up after that.”  
Sho is only happy to indulge him and lies down again, pulling Jun close, shivering lightly at the feeling of skin against skin, and does his absolute best to keep his hands off of Jun’s tempting ass. Instead, he looks down when Jun snuggles into the hollow by his neck, lips only ghosting across Sho’s collarbones. He just looks at him for a few seconds before tilting his head slightly to kiss Jun’s temple. It is just too tempting, he cannot help it, and after the first taste, he continues to Jun’s cheekbone, placing another brief kiss there, to the corner of Jun’s eye, his forehead. Jun seemingly does not react, but Sho can feel the smile against the skin of his neck, which is what makes him continue, even when he has to put a hand underneath Jun’s chin to lift his head and gain access to the rest of his face. Now he brings his lips to Jun’s nose, the corner of his mouth, his chin, even his jaw, though avoiding Jun’s mouth. He did promise to keep himself at bay.  
After a well-placed, long, firm kiss against the hollow below Jun’s ear, the younger man starts to chuckle, hands sliding slowly down Sho’s chest, one gaining a hold of Sho’s hipbone,  
“Sho,” he says, and it sounds almost a bit reprimanding. Almost.  
Sho raises his head to see Jun watching him, looking to be in a considerably better mood than a few minutes ago. Sho’s eyes flicker to Jun’s lips when Jun wets them with his tongue.  
Should he? Should he not?  
Sho breathes out just briefly before he then finally moves in for the kiss, hand moving up to gain a hold of Jun’s neck, fingers gently massaging the back of Jun’s skull. It is slow and languid, though Jun is surprisingly fast at opening his mouth willingly, inviting Sho in, and it turns wet, the sound of their tongues meeting and fighting, roaming each other’s mouths makes Sho’s face flush, heat spreading faster than he had feared. The hand on Sho’s chest starts to draw slow circles over his pectorals, teasingly grazing his nipples, and when they briefly part for air, Sho can hear how they are both panting, both wanting. Jun moves to kiss Sho again quickly, and Sho realises he is discovering quite a demanding side of Jun; as much as the man tries to act all grumpy and rejecting, he wants this just as much as Sho. The thought makes Sho grin in the kiss, the hand at Jun’s nape turning a bit rougher, more forceful as he moves it upwards so he can drag his nails over Jun’s scalp.  
Jun moans softly into Sho’s mouth, and Sho groans suddenly, when the hand resting on Sho’s hip sneaks down to his half-hard erection, fingers gently stroking down the length, working it towards full hardness. Well, no use in hiding his arousal now. Sho retaliates by gently biting at Jun’s bottom lip, but Jun just smiles before curling his fingers fully around Sho’s cock which grows heavier in Jun’s palm, and Sho moans.  
“Now, who’s demanding?” It does not sound nearly as cheeky when the words come out as pants against Jun’s mouth, followed by a hiss when Jun thumbs the slit, “I thought…”  
“Shut up,” Jun growls and renders Sho unable to protest when he kisses him again, tongue invading Sho’s mouth.  
Well, it is not like Sho is going to complain.  
Jun’s hand is warm and soft and perfect, and Sho finds himself surrendering completely, wants nothing else, only holding on by concentrating on kissing Jun back with equally as much fire, though his moves become sloppier when Jun increases the pace and pressure around his cock. When Sho finds himself dangerously close to the brink, hips starting to move in short, desperate thrusts in rhythm with Jun’s hand, when he is close, when he can _almost_ taste it, Jun lowers his pace to a painful slowness. Sho’s eyes shoot open and he groans miserably when Jun retreats from the kiss.  
But then there is promising, sticky breath against his jaw, teeth tickling his skin,  
“Shower.” is all Jun says, but he means so much more, and Sho quickly tumbles out after him, albeit less elegantly than Jun, covers clinging to his legs, almost making him trip. He hears Jun chuckle from the doorway and grinds his teeth, promising himself that Jun will come to regret mocking him, will regret putting him in this position with his skilled hand and hot mouth.  
With Jun laughing softly like that, it is easy for Sho to navigate his way to the bathroom. As soon as he is inside, he closes the door behind himself, eyes locking on Jun who is standing with his back towards him, roaming through cardboards to fish out two toothbrushes; one still in its package.  
"Here, you can have this one,” Jun offers, speaking as if they were not just doing what they were doing.  
His calm voice with the underlying amusement, the spark in his eye, utterly provokes Sho, but he reins it in, narrowing his eyes as he accepts the small package.  
Jun turns around to grab the toothpaste, and Sho’s gaze travels down, noticing Jun’s rather obvious erection. Naturally, Sho smirks, imagining exactly what he is going to do to Jun once that shower is turned on. While they brush their teeth, removing the traces of their shared morning breath and what they just did, Sho stares, eyes hungrily tracing every hill and valley, every plane of skin. Even he can see that Jun is a marvellous human, all broad shoulders, long, defined neck and a narrow waist – the latter a special favourite of Sho’s, only second to Jun’s ass. Jun’s muscles are not lined and cut, but are clearly bulging and strong nevertheless, perfectly capable of matching Sho’s strength. And then there are those small specs of black, dotting over Jun’s skin like scattered constellations. Though Jun clearly notices Sho’s burning eyes, he completely ignores Sho, just facing the mirror, making a performance out of brushing his teeth to perfection. Sho knows Jun is taunting him, but it only makes revenge so much sweeter, when Jun finally puts the toothbrush away and moves to open the shower door. Sho gleefully notices how Jun’s shower is more than big enough for two people, the square of glass fit for any celebrity and definitely appropriate for someone like Jun.  
Sho has kept an eye on Jun long enough to know that there are three things which Jun would probably find absolutely necessary in his living residence: A big shower, a roomy bathtub and a spacious kitchen.  
There is no invitation for Sho to follow, but Jun leaves the door open, one glance thrown through his eyelashes, and it is such an old move, such an obvious temptation, but it is not like Sho cares. He planned to corner Jun anyway. As soon as the glass door is closed behind him, as soon as Jun turns on the water and turns around, Sho is in his space, stepping up and grabbing Jun’s face demandingly between his hands, leaving no room whatsoever for protests, should Jun get the stupid idea of coming up with any, scolding him again for being too aggressive. No, Sho gives Jun no time for that as he pushes him against the tiles, moving in close to align their chests. And when he moves his legs between Jun’s, forcing Jun’s thighs apart with his knees, their erections naturally rub hard against each other, the friction making Jun cry out in Sho’s mouth. And Sho finally gains dominance again, giving Jun exactly what he has been asking for and a little more, when he starts moving his hips, having their cocks slide against each other to create that delicious friction which has them both panting within minutes. All of Jun’s moans are swallowed, occasionally mixing with Sho’s groans of pleasure. One of Jun’s arms moves around Sho’s neck for support, the other cradling his hipbone, and he digs his nails into Sho’s flesh every time Sho’s lower body drives forward against Jun.  
Jun gasps out his name again and again, and they both forget the purpose of showering to get clean.  
Within a considerably short amount of time, Sho has turned Jun around to face the wall, three fingers moving in and out of Jun’s entrance to prepare for what they both are so impatient to have. Sho follows Jun’s desperate clawing at the stone walls, his breath coming out in short gasps of pleasure, and when Sho finds that Jun is ready and prepared, he reaches for a condom and he enters him, one hand on Jun’s hip, the other covering Jun’s on the wall. And he moves slowly at first, pace picking up when Jun’s pain turns to pleasure and he starts begging Sho to go faster, to pull him closer, to fuck him harder, to which Sho naturally obliges. Gladly.  
Eventually the glass door is covered in warm mist, the hot water hitting their backs nothing compared to the heat between them, their moans drowning in the sound of the water, the sounds of sex lost in Sho’s ears, and when Jun clenches so deliciously around his cock as he drives in hard, he loses it, seeing stars as he fucks Jun through their colliding orgasms.  
And when liquid white is washed down the walls, thinning out and into the drain, Sho wants to turn Jun around and do it all over again with Jun’s legs around his waist, nails scratching long, red marks into his back. That thought leads to coffee being second priority, briefs put on and taken off, ending somewhere on the floor when Sho takes Jun again against the sink, just because Sho found Jun’s ass totally irresistible in black boxers. Needless to say, they quickly lost their purpose.  
*  
“Did you sleep well?” Sho asks him while Jun prepares their coffee, measuring the coffee beans to be twice his normal amount on those rare occasions where he actually makes coffee for his solitary self.  
“Actually I did.” He quickly glances at Sho, finding the man to be leaning against the counter, hands in his pockets and looking absolutely stunning, positively shining in the afterglow. Jun knows he probably looks the same, albeit more thoroughly fucked. He thanks his lucky stars for not having work until the afternoon. He is not sure how he would look, waddling in in his state, as sore as he feels. Though he feels positively better than he has felt for a very long time. Thanks to a deep, dreamless sleep, a long shower, warmth and without that constant, gnawing sensation inside him, that loneliness which would never leave. Now it is gone. Because of Sho’s presence.  
As he turns to work on cutting the bread he had Sho go and buy in the nearest store after their shower, arms sneak their way around his waist, a chest moves close against his back and warmth envelops him.  
A gentle kiss is pressed to the side of his neck, and Sho noses Jun’s dark locks, “I am relieved to hear that,” he mumbles, “You look gorgeous today.”  
The arms around Jun squeeze him briefly and Jun grins, “All thanks to you.”  
And Sho knows exactly what he is implying, Jun can practically feel the smirk against his nape,  
“It was my pleasure.”  
Jun finishes cutting the bread, and Sho lets him go so he can find the miso in one of his cupboards. It has been so long since he cooked in this kitchen that it is close to empty. He tells Sho the same thing as he rummages through several shelves hoping he has got some dried seaweed somewhere to add to the soup.  
“I don’t mind, Jun. If you prefer, we can go to a café down the street, have our breakfast there? You don’t need to go out of your way for me.”  
But Jun wants this. He wants to cook for Sho. He wants to cook in his own kitchen again, use his utensils, for someone, to see whether he has still got the touch, whether he can also make Sho smile by preparing something tasty. He really, really wants that. And he wants the domesticity of it, in case Sho will not appear in his kitchen again, in case there will not be a second time. Just in case…  
Finally he finds the seaweed and smiles triumphantly at Sho as he straightens up to show him the package,  
“No need, I can put something together.” He declares and moves back to the stove.  
There is a fond smile on Sho’s lips while he watches Jun work beside him, that warmth in his eyes which Jun has not witnessed him showing to anyone else. It makes Jun feel funny. Unsure, but…  
One thing is a fluttering in his stomach, a tingling in his chest and between his legs. One thing is being sexually attracted to someone. Coming to _care_ for someone is something different entirely. As he glances at the man beside him, Jun wonders what the warmth in his chest is a sign of.  
  
With Sho calmly watching him, Jun manages to finish the simple miso soup – along the way relearning how to – and can then proudly put down two bowls of steaming soup alongside the bread and jam.  
“I did it.” He announces, feeling way happier than he should have, considering how simple the cooking was.  
Sho chuckles, “You did it. Better than what I could have done, that is for sure.”  
“You cannot cook?”  
Jun gestures for Sho to sit down opposite from him, pulling out his own chair at the same time.  
“Honestly, for the life of me, no. Not really.”  
A brief thought of getting back in shape with his cooking skills by experimenting on Sho crosses Jun’s mind, and he tells himself that he will try to make that happen. Should this breakfast taste good, he will do it again. He cannot believe how much fun it was to be in his kitchen with someone standing beside him. It was as if it was less cold, standing on the floorboards working with his pots, even though it is the exact same space he has been living in for so long.  
Jun tries not to stare when Sho raises the bowl of soup to his mouth, tries to look as if he is only staring into his coffee, and probably fails miserably. Sho hums, and Jun cannot stop it before he has raised his head, eyes glued to Sho’s face. What will he think?  
“Yummy.” Is all that Sho says, and despite the rather discouraging feedback, the smile with which he looks back at Jun then, makes Jun grin widely.  
“I’m relieved to hear that. Means I haven’t lost the touch completely,” he says into his own bowl before taking a sip, his heart fluttering happily when the salty taste of miso hits, and he can agree with Sho.  
Of course, it is not Michelin cooking, but it is decent home cooking, and Jun is so stupidly relieved, unable to hide his excitement it seems, because Sho chuckles quietly while chewing on his toast. Jun does not let it discourage him, he is ecstatic. It means he can cook for Sho, if Sho lets him.  
Jun cannot remember the last time he cooked for someone, if at all. Maybe he cooked for Nino once or twice. Before he stopped inviting him over.  
“So is it another interview this evening?” Sho asks, and Jun is pulled out of his daydreaming.  
Does Sho really have the impression that Jun has that many interviews?  
“No, it is a photoshoot for Esse,” he tells Sho, grinning when the other man raises his eyebrows, “Maybe if you’d let people interview you, you could get them to take pictures of you too,”  
Sho’s lips quirk up in a crooked smile, “Well maybe. Since I did appear in last week’s episode, I am no longer a secret.”  
He does not seem too enthusiastic about the thought of magazines though, despite his answer, so Jun drops the subject. Curiously, Sho does not seem interested in fame at all. Which is quite peculiar for actors, especially since he is this good.  
“Do you have any work today?” Jun inquires instead.  
“I have a meeting with my associate at twelve, followed by some… Hmm, other work with some old colleagues.”  
Jun takes note of Sho’s hesitation, his careful choosing of his words, how he does not say much _. Associate, colleague._ Jun does not think it is much of an answer, and thus it naturally sends a pang of insecurity through him, knowing that there are things Sho will not tell him, will not involve him in. Which is natural of course, that is not why he feels so self-conscious all of a sudden. But Jun suddenly realises, with horror, that he is already starting to – surprisingly fast – attach himself to Sho, he is starting to rely on the other man, wanting to be near him as much as possible, know as much as possible. The realization makes him feel sick, turn silent as a clam.  
Something which Sho notices.  
“It is quite boring actually, not that interesting to talk about,” Sho tries, waving his hand in a dismissive gesture, “Just discussing our work and possible future work. All boring stuff.”  
Jun tries his best to hide how he feels, for Sho not to feel forced to tell him everything. So he smiles, shaking his head, “It is totally fine, Sho-san, you don’t have to explain yourself. Work is work.”  
And then he closes that conversation too by bringing his coffee cup to his lips, turning his gaze out the window, trying to focus on something else.  
He just does not want to scare Sho away. He cannot turn clingy now, that would be dangerous. That could ruin everything. He needs to relax, to take it slow. He is scared. Scared of his feelings, of how he feels like he is betraying himself and everything he stands for. He is afraid of what he does not know about the other person, of what could happen and what could not happen. He hates himself for falling so fast and easily, clinging to the first possible person he can find, in a ridiculous, desperate attempt at contact, at attention, at warmth from someone. Maybe it does not even matter who it is. Maybe Sho could have been anyone.  
Though Jun knows, deep down, that such a thing is not the case.  
He is disgusted with himself. And while busying himself with these dark thoughts, he does not see how Sho looks at him with slight confusion, how those dark eyes show a tinge of regret.  
Does not realize that he cannot push Sho anywhere. Even if he wanted to.  
  
*  
  
_“What is it Aiba-san?”_  
Sakurai’s patience is running thin, and he is not in the mood to discuss with Aiba again. If he dares bring up Jun…  
Whether Aiba senses how he is walking on dangerous ground or not, is unclear, but he merely hands Sakurai a stack of files with a bow, not saying anything until the reaper has flipped through a couple of pages.  
“These files are for the humans who are going to die this week. We will be busy.” Aiba says, voice monotone.  
Sakurai nods, eyes flickering over the rows and rows of names,  
“Some disaster is going to happen,” he concludes, “This is an unusual amount of names.”  
Aiba nods, “So it would seem.”  
An earthquake is scheduled to happen near the coast, followed by a tsunami which will swallow up hundreds of lives of people living nearby. Death will be busy.  
“Summon ten of the demons of our highest ranks. I need some help gathering all of these souls,” with that, Sakurai puts down the stack of papers on his desk, all business, planning to look through all of them, to check all the names and occupations of these people.  
Not that he is interested in what these humans do and who they will leave behind. No, he just wants to make sure that they will not affect Jun in any way.  
Sakurai anticipates that he will be really busy next week. Normally, such a week would send shivers of anticipation down his spine, he would be excited for all the work he has to do, all the delicious souls to reap. But as of now, he just wants to get it over with as quickly as possible.  
So that he can get back to Jun.  
Aiba remains standing in the middle of the room, looking at Sakurai with a brooding look in his eyes. He wants to say something, contemplates whether he dares to. Sakurai is very well aware of this, and readies himself to send Aiba flying across the room as soon as he opens his mouth.  
In the end, Aiba decides not to risk it, and with another bow leaves the room in silence. The silence swallows up the sound of his footsteps across the marble floor and leaves Sakurai to his darkness. Alone like this in such an empty room, Sakurai finds himself thinking back to the morning in Jun’s apartment, warm coffee in his hand, sunshine hitting Jun’s soft hair, reflecting in his hazel eyes, making them shine golden, a stunning smile on his face when Sho told him he liked his food. These surroundings are sad compared to what he has found with Jun.  
For hundreds of years, Sho has remained perfectly content with what he has here, but now he shivers, he feels cold, the black walls around him no longer a comfortable home.  
****  
  
*  
  
  
Sho calls two days later, invites himself over by asking if Jun feels like cooking for him. With the way Jun’s heart rages against his rationality, beating violently against his chest, he cannot resist such an opportunity and tells Sho to give him an hour to go and buy groceries.  
He does not tell Sho about how his nightmares returned immediately after Sho left, how he thought it had gotten better. But evidently, it was due to Sho’s presence or maybe the exhaustion Jun felt after all the sex. Jun is not sure, but he does find himself slightly anxious when he opens the door for Sho, smiling when the other man shows him a pack of beer, grinning.  
“Are you planning on getting me drunk, Sakurai?” he asks.  
Jun closes the door after him, watches him hang his coat and step out his shoes.  
“Maybe. Makes you an easier target,” Sho grins wickedly before Jun finds himself pulled in by the neck, Sho’s plump lips catching his, gasp silenced effectively between their mouths.  
He blinks rather stupidly, feels like a blushing school girl, and does not regain his cool until Sho has placed the alcohol on the kitchen counter.  
“As if you need to weaken my resolve.”  
Jun walks in after him, and reaches for the pasta; the last thing he needs to prepare, the sauce already simmering on the stove.  
“You don’t think it could be fun?” he hears Sho say then, glancing at the other man before applying salt to the water.  
“What? Getting me completely wasted and unable to stand on my own two legs? Sure, hilarious.”  
He fights back a smile, the urge to laugh, and pretends to be unimpressed. Clearly failing when Sho chuckles by his ear, when he feels teeth rake gently over his nape,  
“No, I meant totally weak and unable to fight me.”  
Now Jun turns, poking the handle of the spoon against Sho’s chest, making him back away slightly,  
“Do not try to fool me, Sho-san. You like it when I fight you.”  
Sho’s eyes shimmer darkly and that expression on Sho’s face is almost enough to prevent Jun from turning back to his cooking, afraid Sho is going to pounce on him when he is not looking, but in the end, he takes his chance, acting as if he is not fazed at all, as if he is nowhere near affected by Sho and his advances.  
The minutes tick by, with Jun facing away from Sho, and he cannot hear a sound from the other man, does not know whether he has left the kitchen, or moved elsewhere. Suddenly, there is electricity in the air, anticipation, bated breath, one waiting for the other to move, to do something. And Jun only knows that he will not be the one to turn to look for the other actor, not until he has finished cooking. That is why, when he tests the pasta and decides that it is perfect, when he reaches for the colander, a hand wraps itself around his wrist, trapping it against the counter, and then someone is pressing himself against Jun’s back, all nice and close. Hot breath is causing movement to small wisps of Jun’s hair, a warm palm sliding around his waist to rest on his hipbone, soft lips by his ear,  
“You got me,” the man breathes hotly, “I love it when you fight me and lose.”  
Before he can even stop himself, a moan escapes Jun, he even surprises himself and startles when Sho growls back, hips moving close to his, crotch rubbing deliciously against his ass. He only feels grounded by the hand on the counter. He swallows with difficulty, fighting against the desire instantly rushing up in him.  
“Sho-”  
Sho hums against his ear, licks a wet line from his jaw to his earlobe, but luckily moves away after that, hand sliding its way teasingly away from where it was resting. Jun knew that the food would turn cold, had the other man not turned away. And that really would have been a shame. He finds himself panting quietly as Sho slithers out of the kitchen. Jun bets he is perfectly aware of the effects he is leaving behind, and does his best to regain his cool before serving the food.  
The pasta is a success, and with the two of them seated opposite each other, there is no danger of any of them losing their composure – but the anticipation is still heavy in the air, even as they eat and Sho compliments the food, Jun cannot quite enjoy it to its fullest. They manage to keep their hands off one another for an hour, until they move to the couch.  
Sho asks Jun about his plans for the week, whether he has any projects, where he will be going, warning Jun against the construction work which is taking place on some of the roads, how he can best avoid queues in the mornings by choosing other routes. When he is done with that, he pushes Jun down into the soft cushions, his hands doing unspeakable things to Jun, making him fall apart in minutes, finding himself at Sho’s mercy quicker than he could have imagined, not even given the chance to consider taking things to the bed, because cleaning the sofa the following day will be a pain.  
But Sho stays over, and Jun sleeps like a baby, giving him the energy to thank Sho the following day for helping him clean the spots on the couch.  
****  
*  
  
Jun finds himself on a roller-coaster ride between sleeping soundlessly in Sho’s arms, and having nightmares and total lack of sleep when he is alone. He tells himself he is imagining the nightmares getting worse, the images appearing the second Sho closes the door behind him, that the pressure against his chest when he follows Sho’s retreating back is him being desperate and clingy, and a child really.  
Aiba probably gets the worst of it: Seeing him grumpy and temperamental one day, throwing a fit when his coffee is not hot enough, and witnessing him giggling like a lovesick teenager the next, throwing smiles left and right. On one of those good days, Aiba expresses his worry for Jun again, but Jun can only smile shyly, giving him a goofy reply, when Aiba asks about the bruises on his arms, the bluish lovebites on his shoulders and neck. Makeup should be able to fix it, Jun tells him and goes to fetch himself tea from the vending machine. After that, Aiba does not inquire about it again, but sometimes, Jun can feel his worried eyes searing into his back. Nevertheless, Jun cannot feel sorry. Sho is not hurting him without his consent. He finds himself so relaxed and happy when Sho is around him, in him, that there really is no reason for Aiba’s concern. If he knows Jun as well as Jun thinks he does, he should be able to see. That with every day, every kiss, Matsumoto is slowly slipping away.  
  
*  
  
And it is during one of those days, a couple of weeks after Jun started this exhilarating ride, that one of Matsumoto’s acquaintances unexpectedly shows up.  
They are watching a stupid action movie with the sound low, and Jun is not paying attention. Not when Sho’s arm is around him, thumb gently caressing Jun’s abdomen, Sho’s lips planting soft kisses against his neck, his jaw, and Jun is humming occasionally in content. He only catches glimpses of the movie as his eyes frequently close when a particularly wet kiss is placed perfectly. Sho is so warm. Though they have already been at it, Sho is unable to keep his hands off Jun for long, and so they ended in this position after dinner; Sho’s chest against Jun’s back, Sho’s head supported by his elbow on the armrest, Jun’s head resting on a pillow below. And slowly, Sho’s gentle attention is igniting Jun again. Something which he tries to swallow, to just enjoy this soft, slow, quiet moment.  
“You know…-“ Sho is suddenly whispering, when the doorbell rings and they both start.  
Jun instantly sits up, nearly gonking his head against Sho’s chin. Who would ring Jun’s doorbell at 8 in the evening? His first reaction is to stare at Sho. As if the other actor holds the answer. But Sho is no help at all as he just shrugs, eyebrow rising, “Are you expecting someone?” and there is a slight challenge to his words, as if asking _did you invite someone other than me here?_. He looks slightly offended. As though its Jun’s fault that some dumbass decided to stop by now.  
Jun scoffs and pushes Sho off, stumbling slightly in the carpet as he walks and works on straightening his clothes, his hair, to appear at least a little bit decent when he opens the door, to whoever it is.   
When he reaches the genkan, Sho is right behind him. Should a serial killer appear, Jun will remember to thank Sho for not letting him die alone. He rolls his eyes, with a crooked grin though, and opens the door.  
His smile freezes.  
“Ishihara-san?”  
The woman is clutching the handle of her bag with both hands, and Jun notices that her naturally pouty lips are a thin line of… what? Annoyance? Impatience? Anxiety?  
“Matsumoto-san,” her voice is hesitant, eyes flickering between Jun’s face and the arm he is using to keep the door only slightly ajar, blocking the woman’s view into the room, to Sho, “I um, I was wondering… Can I-?”  
It is clear that she wants to ask to be let in, but in the instant that she starts to make the inquiry, Jun leans back slightly, naturally causing the door to open more, and Satomi stops mid-sentence, eyes flickering in behind Jun.  
Sho.  
Her eyes widen, and Jun wants to curse. Well, this is a mess.  
“Who…?”  
“Ishihara-san,” Jun decides to just be cool and fully opens the door to step aside and reveal all of Sho, standing no more than a foot behind him – Jun can feel his close presence. Jun turns to see him standing there with his hands in his pockets, the open top buttons of his white shirt revealing his collarbones, and his dark eyes are zeroed in on Satomi’s face, “This is Sakurai Sho,”  
Even Jun feels his heart skipping a beat – in anxiety – at the darkness in Sho’s eyes, can only imagine how Satomi must be feeling,  
“He is-” she starts, voice slightly shaky.  
“Matsumoto-kun’s colleague,” Sho interrupts and then takes a step past Jun to offer her his hand.  
With his back to Jun, Jun cannot see his face, but he does notice how Satomi’s eyes grow even bigger when she accepts Sho’s hand, lips parting in a quiet gasp. Only when Sho steps back again, can Jun see the polite – most likely fake – smile on his lips, the shadow still evident in his eyes, “I play the villain, so you better be careful.” Despite the wink Sho throws her, one would be a fool not to notice the underlying implication.  
And Jun wants to reprimand Sho for it, because Jun feels slightly offended, and stunned at Sho’s behaviour towards Satomi, how the usually calm and polite Sho pushed Jun out of the way and now closes the door right in Satomi’s chalk-white face. He wonders whether she will recover. He certainly won’t ever hear what it was she came here for. Though Matsumoto can probably figure it out.  
“What do you think you’re doing?” he demands to know as soon as Sho turns to him again, “You just-”  
Sho breaks him off by pushing him to the wall, hand beside Jun’s head, face inches from his,  
“I am just setting things straight.” He snarls, and Jun’s mouth slams shut.  
Sho’s eyes narrow and he slowly tilts his head, the movement daring Jun to talk back. His eyes are completely black, the brown iris swallowed up, the look on his face almost scaring Jun; he looks furious, a complete contradiction to the Sho, Jun was cuddling with minutes ago.  
“Let me make it clear to you as well,” Sho lowers his voice to a hiss, and Jun can see how he is clenching his jaw by the way the bones move under his skin, “You are _mine_.” Jun’s breath hitches, “And I do not care what gender they have, no one will lay a _finger_ on what belongs to me.”  
This is the moment in which alarm bells should start ringing for Jun, this is when the red lamps should flash, the white flags should be raised, this is when Jun should have fled. Had he been rational. But instead he shudders, fear and nerves and doubt and desperation all clashing together, his nightmares and dark visions pushed to the farthest, dustiest corner of his mind and his arms fly around Sho’s neck, pulling him close so Jun can kiss him, can suck the air from his lungs, force his tongue between Sho’s lips and grant this possessive being entry.  
Because Sho is really no different from Jun at all. Which makes them equally stupid. And equally crazy.  
  
When Sho’s hands are under Jun’s shirt, marking burning patterns on the skin at his sides, when Jun’s legs are wrapped firmly around Sho’s waist, that is when Sho asks the question, planting a kiss on Jun’s exposed shoulder,  
“What do you want Jun? What do you need?”  
He has calmed down, movements visibly slowing, growing less desperate as the minutes pass by, because Jun still has not pushed him away. By his words, it sounds like he has come back to his senses, showing a strange insecurity, a need for assurance. And a will to not only get what he himself wants, but to _give_ Jun what he needs too. An unselfish gesture, sudden, unexpected, alien.  
“I want you. Sho, I need _you_.”  
Sho sighs, his shoulders sagging, and Jun can feel a soft smile against his skin.  
And Jun then nuzzles his nose into Sho’s hair, breathes on his face, shows him one of Matsumoto’s smirks,  
“And what do you want, Sho?” his voice is a breathless whisper when Sho turns his head to look at him, to study his eyes, “I can be anything you want me to be… Anyone.”  
Matsumoto is asking him what Sho really wants, what kind of person he needs. This is Jun’s final way of asking, Jun’s cautious move and last test, just to be sure, to be absolutely certain. That Sho does not just want the sex, someone to cuddle with, someone to _own_. The ice is creaking beneath him, the edge of the knife he is walking skinny, and Jun can feel it around him, feel it deep inside himself as he stares into Sho’s eyes, as he listens to the heavy breathing from the other man, witnesses his nostrils flaring, the small contractions in his face, those unreadable contortions which Jun has yet to learn the meaning of.  
Then, Sho opens his mouth, and Jun can feel his own breath catching in his throat, how Matsumoto cracks and breaks away again, so easily, so easily…  
“I need…” Sho starts, and then he raises his hand to Jun’s face, brushing the damp hair from his eyes, cradling his cheek in his palm, accepting him and reeling him in, “You. Jun. I need you, and no one else.” There is warmth on Jun’s face, in Jun’s chest, all over him, “As for what I want, well,” Sho leans forward to gently bite Jun’s earlobe, growling his next words through his teeth, “I want you tied to the bed, naked, your voice cracking as you scream my name.”  
And Jun feels his legs turning weak, feels those walls crumbling around him. He is walking on dangerous ground.  
But he is not wandering those smoldering rocks alone.


	9. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**  
He is panting hard, sweat running from his temple, down his neck, marking a line over the rest of his naked body. Sho meant business; his wrists are tied together with soft, black robe, his hands are raised, bound to the bedpost, and he cannot get loose, should he even want to. His whole body is drawn tight, tense and on the edge, with no way of actually falling from where he is standing. With the pressure too tight around his hard, leaking cock, preventing him from coming, despite the hard work Sho is doing with three digits driving in and out of his ass fast, circling him, adding just the right amount of pressure to reduce him to moans, to shatter him, without letting him fall apart completely. His own moans are loud in his ears as he bucks back against the fullness every time Sho’s fingers move in to his knuckles, the fullness which is still not enough, and he hears himself beg for it. Over and over and over again. For Sho’s cock, for Sho to fuck him. But he is getting nothing, only a breathless chuckle by his ear, a warm palm coming around to wrap itself around his erection, pumping him until the pleasure is borderline _unbearable_. Jun is so hard and he is not sure he can take much more.  
“Jun.” his name is drawn out in the same whisper against his neck, “Remember this. Remember how good I can make you feel.”  
When Sho finally removes his fingers, Jun still finds himself whimpering, missing the feeling, though it is soon substituted for an even greater pleasure when Sho with a grunt thrusts into him in one swift move, his slick cock sliding deep into Jun, and makes him see stars. Jun moans loudly, partly because he knows how much Sho likes him loud.  
“Like this.” Sho pants, pulling out, only to ram back in, “Remember this when you tell others _exactly_ whom you belong to. Despite their efforts; they will never be this good.” Each of his last words are punctured by a sharp thrust, each making Jun cry out in pleasure, Sho knowing exactly where to hit, the tip of his cock hitting Jun’s prostate, and had it not been for the cock ring, Jun is sure he would have come several times already. Sho increases his speed, hands grabbing a tight hold around Jun’s hipbones, marking him, pulling his hips back every time Sho moves forward, and Jun has to close his eyes, focus his attention on breathing, on the lewd sounds of their bodies coming together. He wants to reach for purchase somewhere, for support when his legs feel like they are about to give out under him, when his arms prickle, his wrists hurting slightly. Sho is grunting his name, doing all the hard work of making Jun feel, of taking and taking all of what Jun is surrendering to him. Suddenly, Sho slows down, and Jun manages to take one deep breath before Sho suddenly slams hard into him, hitting his very end and Jun emits a choked moan,  
“And what do you say then Jun? What is the answer?”  
There are tears in Jun’s eyes, from the pleasure and from the pressure turning to pain around his cock. He has never been so hard in his life,  
“Yes.” He manages to get out, no more than a mere sigh, but Sho smiles against his cheek, his sweaty chest against Jun’s back, their bodies flush together.  
“Good.”  
And then he rakes his nails down Jun’s ribs, down his sides, making red stripes appear on Jun’s sensitive skin and it burns, a pleasure Jun did not think existed, he is so riled up that what usually tickles goes straight to his cock, new drops of precome running down the tip while he struggles against his restraints.  
“Oh God,” he breathes before he gasps when Sho pulls him back again roughly, picking up speed, going in again and again and again, until Jun is not certain whose moans it is he hears. Sho is fucking him mercilessly, hard enough for Jun to clench deliciously around his cock, holding tight as long as he can, stretching it, feeling every inch of Sho’s length, and he is rewarded by a long drawn out moan of his name, Sho digging his nails into his flesh as he comes, Jun whimpering at the feeling of Sho filling him, warmth spreading and leaving him sticky when Sho pulls out.  
It is not fair, Jun is about to say, for Sho to just let go and leave him like this, but then Sho comes into his vision, a sated grin on his face. He has never looked better than now, standing in all his naked, sweaty glory in front of Jun, muscles rippling as he pants hard.  
“So,” he says and steps us close to Jun.  
Jun gasps as he suddenly grabs Jun’s dick tightly.  
“Do you want to come?”  
And Jun wants to yell at him, to sob, because _yes_ , there is nothing he wants more right now. He has been waiting for more than an hour, his throat dry, eyes wet,  
“Please. Please Sho,” he whimpers and gets silenced when Sho kisses him, trapping his lips and feeding him his tongue. Then he starts stroking Jun’s length languidly, using the precome as lube, smearing it around the head, “Are you desperate?” Sho breaks away to ask.  
“Yes.”  
“How do you want it?”  
How long can Sho keep at it? Jun bites his lip hard and drops his head. Only for Sho to drag it back up by pulling hard at his hair.  
Jun moans miserably, “Just. Just. It does not matter. Just, please.”  
Then Sho chuckles, and Jun thinks he is being cruel, “Alright. You’ve been really patient Jun, really good. And that does earn you a reward.”  
Jun has never seen Sho go down on his knees in front of him before – it has always been the other way around – so when he does, when he looks up at Jun from below, Jun’s cock inches from his face, Jun moans at the mere sight of it, thrashing against the robes again.  
“I’ll make you feel real good.”  
It does not take him long, as soon as Sho wraps those sinful lips around his dick, as soon as he starts sucking, taking Jun deeper and deeper, Jun loses his sanity, having already lost much of it with Sho’s cock driving in and out of his ass. He soon starts thrusting forward into the heat of Sho’s mouth, chasing the pleasure, and Sho answers by humming around his length, the vibrations sending great spiky waves over Jun, only urging him on.  
“Sho. Fuck. Yes.”  
Jun can feel how Sho shifts a bit below him, feels his tongue flattening under his cock and then he slowly starts using his mouth to pull the cock ring off of Jun. The first few thrusts do not make the ring go anywhere; Jun is so hard that like this, it is hard to remove. And Jun feels, rather than hears Sho chuckle, which makes Jun give him one particularly hard thrust, causing Sho to choke slightly. But he deserved that, and afterwards the ring starts coming off, moving an inch each time Sho pulls back and Jun retreats. At one point Sho places a hand on Jun’s hip, and just as Jun is about to complain, he drags his mouth to the head of Jun’s cock and gives one particularly hard suck, hollowing his cheeks, and it looks so damn filthy when he looks up and licks the precome off his lips. In that moment, Jun wishes he could bury his hands in Sho’s messy hair and drag him right back to work, to just fuck that cocky mouth of his. Jun grinds his teeth, feeling a spark of aggression at Sho’s teasing, but then Sho opens his mouth wide again, swallowing Jun’s cock to the root, and Jun is once again reduced to wordless sounds. He picks up his pace, forcing himself to keep his eyes at Sho, at how obscenely his mouth is open for Jun’s dick, how he works hard to pull off the ring. And when it finally comes off, Jun stutters, choking on a moan. It feels too good, he seeks support by wrapping his fingers around the robes on his wrists and then he moves faster, fucking Sho’s mouth as well as he can in his current position and state, feeling Sho’s fingers creeping around to grab a hold on the back of his thighs, enabling Jun to go as deep down Sho’s throat as he needs to. And Jun cannot hold it back, that one thrust, his tip hitting the back of Sho’s throat sends him – finally – falling from the edge, and Sho keeps him there while he comes down Sho’s throat, Sho swallowing dutifully, leaving no drop to clean up later. Almost a shame.  
Afterwards, as he has come down from his orgasm haze, Sho releases his wrists, supporting him the few steps to the bed where he plops down pitifully, completely spent. Jun cannot comprehend how Sho has any energy left to clean them up, to rub Jun’s sore wrists with cooling cream, but Jun is thankful for it. And when Sho joins him under the blankets, Jun snuggles up close, wrapping his arms around Sho, and buries his face in Sho’s warm chest. Leaving one kiss against one pectoral, Jun sighs in content, sleep soon enveloping him.  
   
When he opens his eyes come morning, he vaguely remembers waking up in the middle of the night; choking on the darkness, gasping for breath he could not find. He remembers how burning he felt, as if his body was on fire, and he remembers Sho’s worried eyes when Jun finally calmed down.  
But that could all have been a dream of course.   
  
*  
  
He cannot remove his gaze, holds it firmly on the creature in front of him, completely drawn to the planes of his cheeks, his long eyelashes, his gorgeous lips. Everything about this being attracts his attention, pulls him in. His artificial heart is skipping happily, his legs a little like jelly. Sho knows no other way of describing this alien emotion.  
There is nothing at all, not even all the treasures of this world and the next combined which will ever be enough for Sho to divert his gaze from this. Nothing will be enough for him again, if he cannot have this. Sho has always been greedy, never letting go once he gets a hold of something. And this, whatever it is, he cannot release. It is just not possible.  
But acknowledging that fact buries a knife deep in his heart, because he is nothing but a cruel, twisted creature, apparently not satisfied with only doing what evil initially planned for Jun.  
For the first time in his life since he was appointed to the role of reaper of the dead, Sho regrets being bound to it. Regrets what he has to do, what he wants to do. Because it means he will have to take absolutely everything from Jun, considering what he has already stolen so coldly. And Jun does not even grasp the scale of what Sho owns now.  
Death _despises_ himself for having to wretch the life out of this human. Humans have never meant a thing to him, but now one of them is holding onto the world in which he exits. The now.  
Who would want to go back to a dark, black tower, the stench of death in their nostrils, the picture of themselves in the middle of it all, with darkened wings and horrifying, silver eyes and bloody hands. He wants so badly to stay, to dwell in this perfect feeling forever, to keep Jun in his arms, but he is painfully aware that it is not possible. Sho never imagined he would come to feel this way about a _human_. But Jun, with his curiosity, his expressive brown eyes, his clever mouth and his talent, Jun with his strong features and gorgeous limbs, Jun with all that warmth he has been keeping inside himself, warmth and passion he has been wanting to share for so long, passion he is now so willingly handing to Sho, Sho has found him sneaking his way so wickedly into the very icy core of Sho’s being, so smoothly that Sho is only just noticing now. Now, when it is way too late.  
Sho somehow wishes he had never laid his eyes on this particular soul, that he had just ended it when he first discovered that Jun was going to die. It would have made it so much easier, so much less painful for both of them. Now, they will both come to suffer.  
Sho has never wept for anyone, never shed a tear for anyone but himself, but as he lies with this warm, selfless creature so close to him, his own arms wrapped protectively around him, in the seeing light of the bright morning sun, shining through the window, it almost feels like it is ok, does not seem so cruelly wrong, and a tear rolls down, marking its way over the cheek of this artificial body. Evidence of his melting shell of ice.  
  
  
*  
  
  
After a while, Ninomiya calls Jun, a couple of weeks having passed since they spoke last. His reason for calling, Ninomiya explains, “is just because I wanted to tell you that last night my drama had a viewer-rating of 20%”, but Jun knows he has another agenda. With how he greets Jun on the phone, it is clear that he is checking up on Jun to make sure he is ok. And it is not without good reason, seeing as last time they spoke, Jun was having a breakdown and found himself waking Nino up with his early phone call.  
Ninomiya does not seem to bear a grudge at all though, and after being told that Jun and Sho are closer than ever – without giving him the juicy details – he invites the both of them over. Which is rare. Nino does not often invite people to his place, but this time of course, the apartment not only belongs to him, but to Ohno too.  
“We both want to meet this hunk we’ve seen on TV. I, in particular, want to know if he subdues you as much in real life as in that drama. Does he, J?”  
Jun wants to hang up. But opts to just ignore most of what Nino is saying and ask for a time and date. Says he will contact Sho and get back to Nino afterwards.  
“And tell him to bring a gift, we love gifts.”  
It earns Nino a snort and a dead line. Jun reckons the man is bored at this hour. Maybe Ohno is at work.  
Instead of calling him just to talk about the invitation, Jun tempts Sho with the promise of shellfish and cake, should he want to come and visit Jun for dinner in the near future. Sho ends up practically purring at the mention of food and tells Jun he will be at his place the following day, at 6 pm.  
  
“You should cook for us next week, bring the food along to Ohno and Ninomiya’s place,” Sho suggest, while they are doing the dishes together. His sleeves are rolled up, displaying his strong underarms, hands buried in soap-water while Jun dries the cutlery in a kitchen towel. Jun hesitates. A part of him wants to, but the other is nervous about his skills, whether he is good enough. Can he remember what Nino likes at all? Would Nino like him bringing food? Last question is an absolute no-brainer; Jun is just considering one excuse after another. When did he become a coward?  
“I can’t,” he mumbles, fumbling with the cloth in his hands, avoiding Sho’s eyes.  
Sho would know his doubts.  
“Of course you can. What does Ninomiya like? I’ll buy the groceries for you.”  
When Jun looks up again, Sho has stopped working, gaze held on him, eyes searching his face. He is searching, challenging, closing all the loopholes. It sometimes frustrates Jun how easily Sho sees through him, how he can guess what he is thinking, how he is feeling, no matter the situation. It is both calming and slightly disturbing.  
Jun’s heart beats fast at the way Sho is so willingly offering his help, trying to meet Jun in the middle, to support him and his insecurities. Stupid little things which often occupy his mind.  
“That is kind of you, Sho-san but-“  
“But?” Now Sho turns fully towards him, leans on the counter, eyebrows raised sceptically, asking Jun to find arguments good enough to avoid doing this, “You love to cook, Jun, don’t you think Nino would appreciate knowing that? And even get to have a taste of it. He really is missing out on a lot.”  
Finally, Jun smiles under Sho’s encouragement. Years ago, Jun would not have hesitated. It is curious to consider how much he has changed, how just the thought of cooking for a close friend – an important person in Jun’s life – can make him anxious. He has become adjusted to being lazy, to not challenge himself. Old Jun would meet any challenge, head on.  
Jun wants to be that man again.  
Still, he counters, “Ohno will probably prepare the food though. Nino mentioned how he likes fish.”  
“Well then you can just bring the dessert.”  
“Nino is not too fond of sweet things.”  
“Well,” Sho steps forward then. His gaze has visibly softened in proportion with Jun giving in, and now he takes the towel from Jun’s grip, before moving to wrap his hands around Jun’s hips. He pulls Jun slowly towards him, eyes sparkling teasingly, “You know I like sweet things, so you can always just bring dessert for me.”  
Jun grins with Sho’s mouth hovering millimetres from his, Sho’s eyes locked on his lips, “You are so selfish, Sho-san. You know I can always provide you with sweets here. No need to bring it to my friend’s place.”  
Sho hums, hands rubbing skin, and Jun finds one of them sneaking under his shirt, “True. Maybe I can just get my dessert when we get back home,” he tilts his head, breath fanning Jun’s cheek, “Gives me better time to devour it.”  
Jun’s laugh of delight is muffled when Sho brings his lips against Jun’s, swallowing up the sounds Jun makes when he pushes his tongue into Jun’s mouth. Jun’s hand reaches for his nape, pulling him even closer to deepen the slow kiss, and soon one hand under his shirt becomes two, and Sho’s touches ends up reducing him to shivers and groans as they mark their way across his abdomen.  
Jun pulls away only to bring a hand up to Sho’s cheek. Gazing into his dark, dark eyes, Sho’s returning stare is soft, languid,  
“Thank you,” Jun says, and it comes out a quiet whisper. _You give me strength._  
 He cannot say it out loud, not yet, but Sho has come to be a big support for him, someone he never even dreamed of being able to tame, not with the display the actor put on when they first met.  
But Sho keeps surprising Jun with new sides of him; surprisingly gentle words when Jun needs then, a jealous and sometimes clingy behaviour, a deep, deep love for food. At first, Jun thought he was the one going to hang onto Sho like an attention-seeking nuisance.  
Sho’s thumb starts to rub possessive circles on Jun’s left hipbone, “I’ll make sure to clear my schedule for Friday next week then,” he tells Jun.  
It is both exciting and slightly intimidating that his friend is finally going to meet Sho. Jun is still not sure what the two of them are now – lovers? He has not dared ask Sho yet. And thus has refrained from calling Sho his ‘boyfriend’. Even in his head.  
But there is time enough. Right now, what they have does not need a definition.  
  
*

“Hellooo, and welcome to our humble apartment, boyfriend of J.”  
Well, so much for all that worry of what to call Sho. One step into Ninomiya’s apartment, and Jun is faced with the first challenge. He dares sneak a peek at Sho, heart thumping wildly in his chest, but Sho just chuckles,  
“Why thank you, friend of Jun,” he retorts.  
Jun catches how Ninomiya’s eyes sparkle mischievously. He really is curious to see how Sho will handle the challenge that is Ninomiya Kazunari.  
“Well, come in, come in,”  
Nino waves them in by turning on his heel and heads for the kitchen. Jun is biting his lip, but then Sho squeezes his hand, throws him a crooked smile,  
“He seems nice.”  
And Jun cannot help but grin. Trust Sho to be totally cool about the situation.  
The apartment Nino has bought together with Ohno is rather roomy, simply decorated and light. Huge windows face the city below, the walls are white and there is only just enough furniture, in Jun’s eyes. It seems that Ohno is as minimalistic as Nino in regards to the living conditions.  
“There is beer in the fridge, so you just grab whichever you want, when you want. I won’t be serving all night,” Ninomiya tells then, popping out from behind the wall, only his head visible from the angle in which they are standing, “Jun is used to this. He’ll show you how.” He winks at Sho, and Jun shakes his head.  
Has his friend always been this embarrassing?  
“Oh-chan made sashimi, so as soon as you are seated – sit wherever you want, just not on my chair – I will bring it in.”  
Jun is still holding Sho’s hand, probably more for his own sake than Sho’s. Looking at him, Jun sees how Sho is currently smiling, humour dancing in his eyes, and it is relieving for Jun that the man is seemingly not nervous at all, eyes wandering around the walls, taking in his surroundings.  
“Sounds delicious,” Sho says, and Jun cannot help but mirror his grin. Everything probably sounds delicious to Sho.  
“It is. Oh-chan makes the best sashimi.”  
“The ocean makes the best sashimi, Kazu,”  
They both turn their heads at Nino’s boyfriend appearing from the living room. There is a calm smile on his lips, and Jun can vaguely see a hint of pinkness on his suntanned cheeks. Despite his comment, he is obviously happy for Nino’s compliment.  
Ninomiya comes out of the kitchen at the sound of Ohno’s voice, “Okay, okay. But you cut it very well.”  
Walking straight past Sho and Jun, Nino moves to throw an arm over Ohno’s shoulders,  
“Let me introduce my boyfriend-” Ohno blushes, “Oh-chan. Oh-chan, say hi.”  
Ohno bobs his head slightly, licking his lips before showing them a goofy smile, “It’s been a while, Matsumoto-san.”  
Jun has to admit that Ohno looks a lot better than when he saw him last. Back then, he was pale and thin, eyes glassy. Aside from his hair being darker this time, his skin looks healthy and his cheeks have visibly filled out. Probably thanks to Nino.  
“It has. I am happy to see you looking so well. Thank you for taking so good care of Nino,” Jun says.  
He is rewarded with a genuine smile, which is broken off when Nino suddenly pokes Ohno’s cheek, “Nonsense, I don’t need taking care of. I am the one needing to take care of this guy. If I didn’t, he’d probably drown in his cereal one day,” Before continuing, Nino holds up a hand to his mouth, a gesture of telling a secret. His next words are a little hushed, but definitely loud enough for all four of them to hear, “You guys, Oh-chan has this amazing ability to fall asleep, _anywhere_.”  
“Stop that!”  
Ninomiya jumps slightly when Ohno jabs him lightly in the ribs, embarrassment all over his face. Ninomiya just laughs, and Jun recognizes the light in his eyes, the love – he is sometimes lucky to see it in Sho’s.  
At this point, Jun turns to Sho, slightly curious as to why he has not heard the man laugh yet. Sho is usually quick to laughter, and Jun is so used to the warm, rumbling sound that he becomes curious now that Sho is only silent.  
Sho’s face is stiff, mouth a straight, hard line. His whole body is held completely still and Jun instantly feels the worry bubbling up in his chest. Why does Sho wear that expression? Why does he look at Ohno with eyes as hard as steel? Jun is just about to ask him what is wrong, but Ohno gets there first.  
He has stopped joking around with Ninomiya and seems to only now realize that he has not greeted Sho properly, just accepted him into the home as if he was the other half of Jun and they came as a pair. Two for one.  
“Nice to meet you too, Sakurai-san,” he says, and since Jun’s eyes are caught on Sho’s face, he experiences how Sho blinks a couple of times, snapping out of whatever thought he was having, and his eyes regain their focus,  
“Likewise,” he greets back, but his voice is dull, only polite, nothing more.  
Ohno tries smiling, Jun can see that he too, notices Sho’s weird behaviour. Then Ohno furrows his brow,  
“Excuse me but… You seem familiar. Have we met before?”  
There is a loud thump in Jun’s chest, one echoing in his ears. Is that why Sho looks so pale? Because they have met? And why would that make Jun anxious?  
Ninomiya’s boyfriend seems a bit slow on the uptake, which may explain the situation – if they have a past, Sho most likely realised their connection the second he laid eyes on Ohno, whereas Ohno is still in doubt-,  
“No.” Sho puts an abrupt end to that possibility,” I don’t think we have. But I do appear in Jun’s drama, so that may be why you recognize me.” That would be too obvious, too vague of an explanation. Sho is lying.  
Turning his eyes to Ohno, Jun can see the wheels turning in his head, but in the end, he does not push the matter further.  
“I see. You are probably right.”  
When Jun looks at Sho again, his face is softened by a smile, but Jun has a bad feeling that the look on Sho’s face now signals relief more than anything else.  
  
The earlier unexpected and unwanted tension lifts as the evening passes by, especially since Nino is a genius at reading moods and knows exactly what to say to lighten the atmosphere and make people feel comfortable. Jun can almost _feel_ Sho loosen up beside him, the arm around his waist or on the back of his chair turning relaxed, as opposed to stiff, protective.  
Jun cannot blame him. With a stomach like Sho’s, there is no way he could have remained cold after tasting Ohno’s sashimi. Accompanied by sake and beer, the food is brilliant. And when Ohno pulls out a plate of shellfish, Sho positively beams, and Ohno does the same, and Jun feels a stone lifting from his heart.  
Even more so when the two of them withdraws to the kitchen, Sho insisting he help Ohno clean up, so Jun can catch up with Nino. Sho gives Jun’s hand a last squeeze, before he vanishes into the kitchen, Jun staring longingly after him.  
A loud, exaggerated sigh is heard from the other side of the couch, to which they have migrated,  
“Maan, Jun-kun, you are in _deeep_ , aren’t you.” Nino’s voice is slightly slurred, his face red, and Jun finds himself in doubt of whether he should be embarrassed or amused by Nino’s words.  
He ends up grinning giddily. Well.  
“Sorry,”  
To avoid Nino’s insistent stare, Jun pats the sofa’s fabric underneath his fingertips. Maybe he should get a new couch too? Considering what he was doing last time he found himself on his couch, maybe it is better to get a bigger one. Maybe he has had a little too much to drink too. Good thing Sho is the one driving home tonight.  
He hears Ninomiya’s obnoxious laugh, “You have nothing to apologize for. You kept your hands to yourself tonight, I am proud. I could not have done the same. Well, and neither could Sho. He is possessive isn’t he?”  
Jun’s face flushes. Nino has always been perceptive. Hopefully, Nino does not have imagination to comprehend what Sho’s possessiveness can also lead to.  
“How is he in bed?”  
Damn. Of course.  
“Are we really talking about that, Nino?”  
“Of course we are! Come on, tell me. I’ll share Ohno’s dirty secrets too.” Ninomiya leans forward, bouncing forward to the edge of the couch, eyes boring holes through Jun’s skull, lips curling in a grin.  
“Damn you Nino.”  
“I know. Now spill it. How is he? Who tops?”  
“Nino!”  
“Ahh,” the other man falls back on the couch with a cry, lifting his feet for emphasis, “I am _curious_. It has been so long. You’ve never had a relationship like this, Jun-kun. Pleeease~”  
His behaviour has Jun laughing, how can he not? Nino is just such a joy to watch, even more so drunk. Such a child. There is no filter. How fortunate that their other halves are not present right now.  
“Ok. He likes it rough.”  
“I knew it!”  
Nino falls back on his ass like a daruma, crossing his legs and grabbing his toes in excitement, “Told you, he would handle you well. Happy to know someone is spanking you properly.”  
“Oi!”  
His creepy laughter gets abruptly cut off when Jun throws the nearest pillow at his face, hitting its mark perfectly. Of course, that does not stop Nino from laughing. Does not stop him from being a stupid brat,  
“The DoS bancho is for once tamed. By an even bigger DoS,” he laughs, and Jun decides it is _more_ than enough. His mouth is sealed now. No more juicy details about _his_ sexlife,  
“Your turn. How is Ohno?”  
Nino sucks in a deep breath, efficiently stopping his guffawing. He is hugging the pillow Jun threw at him, this time not bothering to sit back up as he lies on his back, staring at the ceiling.  
“Oh-chan? Mmm, Oh-chan is good at being pushed around,” Jun rolls his eyes. _Of course_ , “Oh-chan is gentle.”  
Something in his voice changes, and Jun looks up.  
Ninomiya has completely calmed down, a dreamy look now in his eyes, when he continues, “Oh-chan is patient and… Soft. He takes good care of me.”  
Jun smiles, and he cannot help but feel happy for his friend. Nino’s happiness is evident in his eyes, the soft, almost invisible smile on his lips. He looks like an entirely different person. Jun leans over, just far enough to be able to put his hand on Ninomiya’s forehead. It causes Nino’s eyes to move to his,  
“I need to thank Ohno-san then,” Jun says, surprising himself with how sentimental he feels, “For being what you deserve.”  
Ninomiya’s eyes are tender, true when he smiles back at Jun.  
  
When they bid their goodbyes to Ohno and Nino, Jun suspects nothing, nothing seems wrong with Sho at the time. Jun has a good feeling in his stomach, a happy, rare feeling of achievement, of having reached common ground with his close friend, finally. Having the talk he never thought he would ever have with Nino, it dawned on him that they have both found support – finally – solid ground underneath their feet. Something they have both been yearning for, for so long.  
Ninomiya smiles at both of them, tells them to take care of one another with a knowing look in his eyes and they take their leave.  
But as soon as the door closes, as soon as it is just the two of them, Sho shuts like a clam, that stiff, empty expression back on his face. Jun talks to him in the elevator, expresses his joy for how well the evening turned out, but Sho’s replies are curt, emotionless, and Jun’s insides turn cold. When he looks at Sho, the other man does not look back at him, just has his stare fixed straight forward, into nothing and everything other than Jun. Had it not been from what Jun can feel vibrating from him, from the way he holds Jun’s hand tight, as if he is afraid Jun is going to slip away, Jun would have been utterly afraid that this night scared Sho. That it was too much, their relationship suddenly too serious, too committed. Jun wants to ask, he wants to stop at the parking garage to ask what is wrong. But he cannot. It feels as if it is better to be quiet. As if the mood would only get worse if Jun broke it.  
And so it is quiet.  
The silence is deafening in the car, a heavy silence pulling at Jun’s heartstrings as he sneaks worried glances at Sho every minute. The rain is falling heavy on the windscreen and the sound of the scrapers and the heavy drops are the only sounds inside the vehicle. Jun swallows a lump and forces himself to look away from Sho’s hands on the steering wheel, knuckles white at how tight he is gripping the handles, veins threatening to pop. The roads are dark, foreboding, and Jun just does not understand. He thought it all went so well. Nevertheless, it seems that Sho is – after all – still a way better actor than Jun thought, Jun not being able to read him after all. What a stupid presumption.  
The force gripping his heart is something he cannot understand now, and even when he tries not to, he fears the worst. His anxiety and self-consciousness reaching its peak again, just inside this narrow space, where Sho is supposed to be his pillar, this calming force. But now he is the very reason for Jun’s worry.  
Sho is a completely different person, and Jun thinks back to when he faced Ohno, his face wearing a strange mixture between worry and what? Anger? Bitterness? And surprise?  
What is going on?  
Is he angry at Jun? At Ohno?  
Jun is so scared, and although Sho has not said anything, Jun cannot help but imagine the edge right in front of him. Will they fall?  
When they reach the apartment complex’ parking lot, Sho has still not uttered a word, and Jun still does not dare say anything either. He tells himself they are just tired, that he himself had too much to drink, but he knows he is just holding on to invisible strings, strings that are not there.  
It is only a matter of time, Jun can feel it. The elevator descends, they walk down the corridor, Jun finds the keys, opens the door, steps inside…  
“I will not join you tonight.”  
The air shatters like broken glass, the booming silence broken. Jun freezes mid-move, his back towards Sho. He cannot turn around.  
“I think it is better this way.”  
“Why?”  
His gasp is echoed behind him when he hears his own voice, how broken it is, grainy. When he raises a hand, he feels the wetness on his cheeks, the tears which were not supposed to be there. Why are they there? What is going on? Are they...-  
“Jun, I-”  
“Why!?” Surprising himself, Jun yells and whirls around, the following accusing words already ready in his throat, ready to be thrown.  
But he faces a mirror. Sho’s face is pale compared to his red eyes. He is not crying like Jun, but his eyes are glassy, wet, puffy. _Why…?_  
“I-” Jun can easily follow the slow movement down his neck when Sho swallows, tries to regain his composure. Jun has never seen Sho like this before. And it frightens him, “I am not who you think I am.”  
Again, the shattering noise in Jun’s ears. Something breaks, something falls, everything falls.  
“I am dangerous.”  
No.  
“I should leave.”  
_No._  
“I am sorry for pulling you into my… Mess. I am sorry for everything. But this… Forget it happened. Jun, forget. Please.”  
_Nononono!_  
His hands are in the pockets of his dark coat, he casts his eyes down, he looks away from Jun, bites his lips, whispers,  
“I am so sorry.”  
And he leaves Jun just like that. Turns his back and walks down the hallway. Jun has seen that image so many times, with a longing in his heart, a desire to reach out and pull Sho back into his arms. Every time, every time. The only thing preventing him: The knowledge that Sho would return.  
This time, that promise is not there. Jun now knows. _He knows._  
Darkness is left in Sho’s wake, swallowing up what was supposed to be.  
There is no strength, no words Jun could even imagine he could say to make Sho turn around.  
The last thing he mutters, knowing Sho cannot hear, is lost in the void, in the shadows between them,  
_“Cruel.”_  
  
*  


It all happened so sudden, so fast that Jun is momentarily just stunned. He is confused when he wakes up the following morning and the bed is empty. There was not enough time for Sho to move in with him officially, but he came over more often than not, and Jun started to get used to having someone beside him, warming his bed, warming his body. Now, it takes a few stupid blinks, a hand patting the empty space beside him, all in vain, before it dawns on him. And his breath catches in his throat. His eyes watering, spilling over.  
Following soon after that are the nightmares taking over his whole being, in his vulnerable state they keep him up at night, swallow his screams during the day. And sometimes he cannot breathe, cannot remember how to and he rolls onto the floor, raises his arms and gasps desperately.  
He continues to go to work, acts, does his job. Matsumoto does. He is back, and he takes over where Jun cannot act, cannot move. And he becomes Jun’s lifeline, his whole being again.  
But back home, home which is not home, there is only Jun, and Jun’s dark dreams.  
He finds himself calling Sho again and again and again, at night, in his head, on the phone, but he only picks up once, early during it all, just to pull the blanket of pain tighter around Jun’s soul.  
_“I just want you to know, that it is not your fault. I was the one who was not strong enough,”_ He chuckles humourlessly, and Jun thinks he sounds on the verge of crying, _“I had to have you. And so I am sorry. I am so sorry Jun.”_  
He leaves a dead tone in his wake, the sound echoing in Jun’s ears for as long as he holds up the phone, refusing to let it go. Even when there is no longer a reason for him to keep listening, keep hoping.  
There is no explanation, and Jun has stopped hoping for one.  
It is over.  
And this is all he has. A number and an unanswered, monotone sound.  
  
He cannot tell Nino. Nino would blame himself. Ohno would blame himself. They would think it is their fault that Sho has left Jun. And who would not suspect that? Given the circumstances. How the man stuck his tail between his legs that evening. Just when their relationship started to get serious. When Jun finally dared address him as his boyfriend. So he does not contact Nino, hopes the other actor felt as secure as Jun did after that evening, that he does not feel the need to check up on Jun. Since Sho should be here to do that.  
There is no way to hide it from Aiba. It seems like the man just knows everything. With him, Jun is so far thankful that he has not brought up the topic. He would just educate Jun about it, tell him that it is probably for the better. Something along those lines. Surprising Jun, he does not inquire about Jun’s dark mood, the walls being raised again, Matsumoto stepping in, and one day, Jun catches him looking at him with concern. Not the same concern as before; concern for his bruises, for his sore muscles, but this time he looks like he is studying a site of destruction, surveying the damage, cautiously moving in to study the effects, what is left, scattered on the winds. Feeling like a dead animal on display, Jun just gets up and leaves without another word.  
  
*  
  
He wants to be stronger. For Aiba, for Nino, for himself. But with his aching chest, his aching head, he is lost at where to pull his strength from. Is he crumbling away? Just because of Sho?  
Is he really worth that? Jun asks himself. Is he worth the sorrow, the pain, the crippling?  
A sob fills the lightless room.  
Yes. Yes, he was.


	10. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**  
  
_He had to leave, had to.  
What had he been doing there anyway? What had he been trying to gain by it? Even if he managed to be with Jun, it could never be. Never.  
Because Sho is dead.  
And Death cannot teach the dying how to live.  
  
_

*  
  


It seems appropriate. How the real world is crumbling too. Falling apart, destroying itself.  
He is grinning, laughing at the houses falling, the wave crashing over the city, over buildings, cars, over people. The destruction is devastating, the water devouring everything. It was brought along by a huge earthquake, hitting just off the coast. There are – were – so many tourists, so many oblivious people. What a strike to the paradise of Thailand.  
Now he is laughing, and it is not funny, it is horrible. It is horrible. It is wonderful.  
Jun is far gone. He is exhausted and hurting. And so, other people should hurt too.  
Staring at the screen, fixated by the pictures of the huge masses of water, the force of the wave, Jun wishes it would come and swallow him too.  
  
The following day, a volcano erupts in Iceland, and the day after that, in Tokyo, a huge, untameable fire hits an eldercare. There are only a few survivors, the casualties insanely high.  
People are dying.  
The race is dying.  
Everyone is dying.  
  
*  
_  
He has never been this angry. It is like an itch with no cure, and he swipes one life after another, so so easily, the charts soaring, his advisors stumbling over one another to get it all cleaned up.  
The demons are busier than ever, and so is he, as he takes and takes and takes.  
Distractions… Distractions…. Distractions… Scapegoats._  
  
*  
  
It is at this point, when the confusion has turned to sorrow, the sorrow turned to anger, the anger turned to hatred, it is finally after this point, that the hatred returns to confusion, ends the circle, and Jun starts thinking about what Sho actually said to him. _I am sorry._  
With tears glazing his vision, Sho told Jun he was sorry, told Jun it was not Jun’s fault. What was not his fault? That Sho approached him? That Sho slept with him? That Sho left him? And why was he sorry?  
There has not been a single point in time where Jun has blamed Sho, and still, that was exactly what Sho asked him to. _I was the one. Blame me._  
So why is it now that Jun still cannot find it in him to point at Sho, to accuse Sho and hate him for causing Jun so much pain?  
With Matsumoto keeping up the barriers, upholding their jobs, Jun calms down and can start to think again.  
Even now, he cannot claim to know the person that is Sakurai Sho. In the depths of comfort, of warmth, of what he found with Sho, he forgot to ask about Sho. He forgot to notice what was beneath the surface. What Sho did not show him. Could not show him.  
Sho never said the words, but Jun is certain that they both cared deeply for one another. He believes that Sho cared for him as much as he cared – _cares_ – for Sho. He cared enough to meet Jun’s friend, the person closest to being family to Jun.  
With how far he made it with Sho, with how far they made it together, he just cannot leave it at this, cannot give up and just let Sho leave. Especially because Jun felt that Sho sincerely, truly, did not _want_ to leave. Pain was visible all over him. Emotional pain.  
And Jun could not see it until now, could not understand until now.  
How Sho always had a tinge of regret in those deep, dark eyes of his. Jun opted for ignoring the jab to his stomach when he noticed how Sho looked at him when he thought Jun did not notice: When he woke before Jun in the morning, when he threw a glance at Jun while he cooked, even when they were cuddling on the couch and he thought Jun was absorbed in the movie. There was always something there, something hidden, which now, finally caught up to them.  
If only Jun had known.  
He wonders if it is too late now. Whether there was a timer, a countdown, a limit to it all.  
Jun decides to talk to Ohno.  
He pleads the man to leave Nino out of it when he asks Ohno for a spot in his schedule, tells the man that only he can answer Jun’s questions and that it would be simpler to let it stay between the two of them.  
When Jun’s doorbell rings, it is for the first time in a month, and Ohno is the first other person in his apartment after all this time. Jun does not fail to notice how his heart sinks, that it is not Sho, though he of course knew as much, his body betraying his emotions.  
The man standing in his genkan is even more suntanned than when Jun saw him last, and he smiles sleepily when he holds op a white plastic bag,  
“I brought fish.”   
  
Ohno is a quiet man, not the type to start a conversation by himself, and Jun is thankful for it. The shared silence in comforting, compared to how it feels like a weight on his shoulders when he is alone.  
He waits until after they have prepared the fish, after the second beer, when his tongue feels loser, when he feels as if he can keep up, ask the questions without stumbling, without shaking.  
Thankful that it is Ohno’s company he is in, he feels a bit braver when he puts down his beer, takes a deep breath. Ohno would never mock him, would never question his choices, Jun is sure, he has that impression. And Ohno raises his head, aware when Jun starts,  
“Ohno-san, I need to know what you and Sho-san spoke about at Nino’s place.”  
This is something he truly needs to know. There is no other way. So it is a plea, a call for help.  
“Did something happen?” Ohno asks, and Jun can see that he knows.  
Jun could ask why he would ask then, but as soon as he tells Ohno, it dawns on him.  
“He left me.”  
It needed to be said. He needed to hear it, he needed to utter it. But it does not make it hurt any less.  
On his inner vision, he re-watches Sho’s retreating back when he left Jun at the door, not planning on returning. Not this time. He explains all of this to Ohno, including what Sho said, which is eternally confusing to Jun.  
Ohno mumbles something under his breath before playing with the cap of his beer,  
“I should not be the one to tell you this, Matsumoto-kun,” Usually, the older man does not sound this serious, so it startles Jun.  
Is it really that bad?  
Jun bites his lip, turns his hands in his lap.  
“I think Sho-kun should tell you himself,” Sho- _kun_. What does that mean? What is their relationship?  
Ohno answers before Jun can inquire about it.  
“Sho-kun and I are… Acquainted,” there is a light tugging at his lip, and Jun wonders what is going through his head, what he sees when he does not manage to look Jun in the eye, almost seemingly spacing out, “But let me at least tell you this: You and I, we are both familiar with what he does. And Sho-kun…” he breaks off a moment to consider his next words, button lip jutting out only slightly.  
Jun is utterly thankful for how much he is trying,  
“Sho-kun is definitely right when he tells you that he is dangerous.”  
Jun freezes, eyes widening, “How dangerous?”  
Ohno’s eyes dart to Jun’s face now, and his eyes are soothing, calm,  
“Do not misunderstand. Sho-kun would never hurt you. Never.”  
Suddenly, Ohno’s face is blurry in front of him, and Jun does not understand, not until he realises the clutching in his chest,  
“Wh- Why did he leave me then…”  
“Sho-kun wants to protect you,” Ohno looks a bit uncomfortable, not really sure how to calm Jun down, how to make it better, how do behave in this situation where he is the centre of Jun’s attention, “I am sure he is watching over you as we speak.”  
It sounds half-hearted. But Jun believes part of it could be due to Ohno’s discomfort about having to soothe Jun, to help clean up the mess.  
Jun has always been a crybaby, he knows, but he is still embarrassed to show it all to Ohno. But there is just no room for walls, no room for Matsumoto, when it concerns Sho. Left bare, raw, there is only his true emotions, breaking any barrier.  
The thought of Sho being around him, protecting him, unable to be with him, hurts Jun so, so much, because if it is true…  
Then Sho is hurting too.  
  
*  
  
As much as the talk with Ohno helped clear up Jun’s bad conscience, it just leaves him sadder. Because he knows Sho is probably going through the exact same thing as him now, possibly even worse pain, and because there is _still_ nothing Jun can do.  
He has no address, no relatives, no friends of Sho’s he can contact, his colleagues from the set of _Pawns_ know nothing. He only has an invalid number, where no one ever picks up.  
  
A week after meeting with Ohno, Jun experiences a violent attack of chest pain and breathlessness. Worse than he has had so far.  
He is on set, leaning his weight on the back of a chair, supported by his arms, while he waits for the crew to be ready for filming the next scene in the dark alley in which they are standing. There are small puddles of water around his feet, cold, damp walls on either side of them, where Jun in corporation with a stuntman will film an escape scene.  
It happens when his eyes are taking in the scenery in front of him, and his heart beats unnaturally hard against his chest. One, big, loud thump, almost hurting his lungs, echoing in his ears. And when he then tries to breathe in, he finds that the air does not reach his lungs, it is as if the oxygen is not enough, as if he cannot gulp down enough in each breath for him to feel comfortable. He starts clutching his chest, gasping, reaching for something to support him, finds only the chair, and his vision gets blurry. Squeezing his eyes shut, he tries desperately to pull in one deep breath at least, and fails. The burning in his chest increases, but it is nothing compared to the pain, the hard clutching around his heart, like claws burying themselves into the organ, the grip tighter and tighter and tighter still. Jun has never experienced such excruciating pain before, his heart is beating desperately fast, blood coursing through his veins, and he stumbles. And despite the arms suddenly pulling at him, voices screaming at him from afar, the blurriness arounds his vision distorts, dissolves into a black screen, darkness… Darkness…  
  
Dying is a strange thing, Jun finds. For the eternity of a life span, humans wait to die. They fear and respect death as the inevitable endgame, a dark hole at the end of it all. And people try to avoid it, with everything; medications, treatments, psychology. Because they are afraid of what it feels like. And they fear what they leave behind; their families, their friends. It is the ignorance that leads to that deep fear, always in slumber, until the person can finally grasp at it, see it, imagine it.  
What Jun finds the most peculiar about death is that there is nothing at all. It is like sleeping without dreaming, there is just an empty space, a dark hole where everything shuts down. Closes. There is no pain, no thrill, no feeling, nothing at all. It is what it is.  
The end.  
  
*  
  
So when he, at the end of it all, opens his eyes again, he is confused.  
Jun blinks, the sharp light ahead obscuring his view, making him see stars and nothing but white white white. It is uncomfortable, returning to it all. That odd relief, calm, which he found himself caught in, floating in, is ripped away, substituted with the hardness of bedlinen and pillows underneath him. He finds that he wants to return to the void, where there were no such things as emotions or feelings. Where it all was so _simple_.  
Experimentally, he moves a finger, two fingers, a hand, his head which he turns and there, beside him, he catches the eyes of his best friend, filled with worry, puffy and glassy, and he barely recognizes him,  
“Jun-kun…” Ninomiya mouths, Jun only catches the last whisper of ‘ _-un.._ ’, but nevertheless knows what he is saying.  
He blinks again, reaches out a hand, not because he wants to, but because he knows he ought to, Nino would need that. And his friend instantly reaches out to wrap his fingers around Jun’s, leaning forward,  
“I thought you were going to die, Jun, when they called me and said you had had a stroke. I thought I would never get to talk to you again.”  
Nino still speaks within a hollow space, his voice distorted and rings weirdly in Jun’s plugged ears. Jun swallows and nods, smiles faintly.  
So he had a stroke? Jun cannot remember. He just remembers pain without comparison, flaming, burning pain in his chest, desperation at not being able to breathe. And then he remembers the relief when he escaped it all. When he was taken away by that gentle embrace of the cradle of darkness. He has never felt so weightless.  
But seeing Nino’s devastation, how his pure happiness shines through the tears, which were not supposed to be there – Nino never cries, Jun does not like that he makes an exception now – Jun is glad, he returned. If not just for Nino’s sake.  
“I am sorry,” he tries to get out, his voice hoarse in his ears.  
Ninomiya raises his head, his attempt at a smirk failing, and he buries his head in the white covers,  
“Don’t ever do that to me again, Jun-kun. Ever. Or I will kill you.”  
Jun cannot help but chuckle, the sound coming out in short, soundless busts, but nevertheless, he feels his head clearing a little by the action, the dizziness disappearing, the fog rising slightly.  
In this moment, his thoughts are solely on Nino, on calming him until he starts talking about leaving Ohno at home to rush to the hospital, most likely midgame, right as he was off to kill the final boss. Nino helps him sit up in the hospital bed, pulling the pillows snuggly up behind his head, adjusting the wires and tubes in Jun’s arms to he can sit comfortably. Jun tries to ignore the machines around him, the sensation of having rubber in his arms, and just listens to Nino until a nurse comes in along with the doctor.  
Somehow, Jun does not want to know what the doctor has to say, what his diagnose is, what is wrong with him, how much time he has left. He does not want to know. Because that will make his suspicions a reality, it will make all his coughing fits, his insomnia, the pains in his chest, his inability to breathe justifiable, it will turn them into more than just weird incidents, they will become symptoms of something residing in his body, eating him up.  
Jun has never seen Nino as attentive as he is when straightening up to listen to the doctor. Jun has no one but him, and he is eternally grateful for his presence.  
“We have run some tests on you Matsumoto-san, as well as looked in your medical records, and it has come to our attention that you have had a weak heart for quite some time?”  
He can feel how Nino turns to look at him, how three pairs of eyes bore into him, into his soul, into his past. And he can do nothing but nod.  
“Was this something your family was aware of?”  
“I have no family anymore,” Jun grates out after swallowing with difficulty, “They are all gone.”  
_I only have Nino left, and what was I to tell him._  
For the moment, Ninomiya says nothing, but his silence only makes the guilt that much more of a beast, eating Jun up from the inside already.  
“I see. And it has never occurred to you to get any kind of treatment?”  
He gets the urge to chuckle, to laugh at it all. _No._ He has never considered extending his life.  
The doctor’s voice starts fading away, his face blurring, since Jun is no longer looking, listening, no longer present. He never considered extending his life until Matsumoto started fading away again. But that seems like years ago, not mere weeks. Jun does not have the wish to keep living unnecessarily, with the help of technology and unnatural techniques. He wants what is natural. What is meant to be. Anyone should understand that. Nino should understand.  
“The stroke you got is a result of no treatment, Matsumoto-san. It will only get worse from now on,” the doctor blabbers on.  
But Jun already has an answer to it all.  
His only regret is not having Sho at his side, when it all comes to an end. He would have wanted that. Then, his death could at least have meant something.  
The doctor leaves a few minutes later, a grim look thrown back at Jun from the door, before he closes it. Clearly, he does not approve of Jun’s decision to not get any kind of treatment whatsoever, aside from a few painkillers and pills to take if another attack hits.  
As soon as the door is closed, Nino turns to Jun. Jun braces himself.  
“Why?” Nino’s voice is a lot quieter than Jun imagined it would be, a lot weaker.  
“I am sorry,”  
“I just don’t understand. I don’t understand. Why didn’t you tell me?”  
Perhaps it is the honest pain in his voice, perhaps it is Jun’s guilt that makes him look at the other man, now standing beside the bed, hands clenched into small fists at his side.  
“I did not want to burden you, Nino,” he holds up a hand to stop whatever Nino thought of saying next, “I do not want to be sick, I do not want to be treated. I just want to live in the now. I’ve always wanted to just _live_.”  
He realises it then, it finally dawns on him as he says the words. That ever since his childhood, ever since he was left alone to his condition, to his weak heart, life has been what he wanted. Though, never would he have imagined it would be so hard to achieve.  
He turns, pleading eyes to his closest friend, begs him to understand. There is so little Nino knows about Jun’s story, about his family. But he always accepted that, always accepted him anyway, and the secrets he kept. Jun wishes with all there is to his weak heart that Nino will accept him again.  
There are fresh tears in Nino’s eyes, but his shoulders visibly loosen up, his fists unclenching. He sags down into the chair,  
“For god’s sake, J…”  
Jun puts a hand on his shoulder,  
“I never imagined it was this bad. All this time?” Nino continues.  
And Jun can only nod. He can only be honest now, he should no longer keep these secrets from Nino. It was a big mistake to begin with.  
With a deep, defeated sigh, Ninomiya covers his face with his hands.  
  
Jun spends a few days foregoing tests and continuous surveillance, gets a brief visit from Aiba who is carrying flowers and assures Jun that the director and the rest of the set look forward to see him, when he is well again. That they send their best regards. Jun is honest with Aiba. He tells his manager about the situation, about his heart, to which his manager’s face falls considerably, almost turning ashen. Looking like he is on the verge of crying, Jun tells him that he just wishes to complete his role in this drama. There is nothing, right now, he wants more than to see the filming wrapped up nice and well, for people to enjoy the drama as much as Jun is. And with those words, he lets Aiba leave, tells him to bring along the message that Jun will soon be up and about again, not to worry. But it does not make Aiba look less sad.  
“This is not right, MatsuJun,” is the last thing he says, and Jun bites his lip.  
No, Jun agrees, something is not right.  
Despite the visits from friends, Jun feels lonelier than ever.  
  
The sun is shining when he finally leaves the hospital on a Friday, the dizziness returning as he steps out on the concrete sidewalk. The spring air is cooler on his skin than it should be, the gentle breeze not half enjoyable, now that he can see the end of everything, grasp where everything stops. Ironic, how he, in his desperate, delusional attempt to live, completely forgot how to and dropped himself along the way.  
All his life, he has been dying, but it is not until now that he actually feels death approaching. Now that Jun is present to take it all in, realize it.  
In his silent mind, Jun wonders whether Sho knew. Whether that is the reason why Jun is alone now. Though how he found out is beyond Jun’s comprehension. Then his thoughts return to the hospital, that day when Ohno seemed to sense something around Jun, and then a bitter smile appears on his face.  
Of course. Ohno saw Death hanging over Jun, just waiting, waiting, as Death always has been.  
Jun wonders what Ohno told Sho in that kitchen at Nino’s place. Wonders if Ohno made Sho turn tail after all.  
The thought is depressing. Not even the sun on his pale skin, the blue sky and smell of grass can lift his spirits. Jun wonders whether this is how it feels to truly die.  
  
He takes the train home, stands in the small, hot, crowded space of the train department, hand grasped tightly around a handle in the roof of the car. Beside him, a salary man is reading a manga, his glasses slowly sliding down the bridge of his nose, and every few minutes he raises a finger to push them back up, only to repeat the action. In one of the seats, an elder woman is watching the kid opposite her blow gum-bubbles, a fond smile on her face. And beside her, a high-school couple is holding hands, the girl resting her head on her boyfriend’s shoulder. There is only silence around Jun. Silence and moving pictures. He is living inside an unknown universe, a world where he does not belong. A world in which he is a passer-by, an observer, never a participant.  
When he arrives in front of his apartment building, the sun is setting in the tall horizon, the sunset obscured by the city of concrete and steel, of the tall buildings reaching for the skies like stiff hands grasping for the beyond, for what they are unable to reach, to touch. They all yearn for it, never to gently caress, never to hold. A bird is singing the last song for the day, singing about the coming of darkness, of the end, before a new beginning, and Jun finds its tune melancholic, utterly beautiful in its sadness. He wonders if that bird too, is alone. If he is afraid of the dark, like Jun. He cranes his neck, stares at the beautiful sky above him, slowly turning a darker shade of blue, small tufts of cloud dancing on the breeze, slowly, leisurely. He wonders what would lie beyond, if not eternal galaxies of stars and planets, of endless voids of blackness. What would he believe if he was not human? If he was a bird? How much easier life would be. Then, he would be singing his own song now, full of sorrow and regret, of loneliness, and hope that maybe, when the sun rose again, he could start anew, searching for someone to sing for, to share the evening with, someone who would welcome the coming darkness by his side.  
But his is but the song of a lone sparrow, as common as they come, he is no match for the blackbird and his evening tune, nothing compared to the crow with feathers of ivory, eyes obsidian, beautiful when he brings about his ill omens, his cawing hoarse and wicked. Who would settle for a house sparrow then, him with no mate, no colours and no song? Better to become someone else, colourful, even if his song is a fake, wrong and out of tune. Who cares when the fluttering of his wings leaves yearning stares lingering on his frame, his appearance so flattering, the others even forget to sing. One as such would be an easy target. Burning so bright, so brief, before dying out, dull skin left for a crow to peck. Until there is nothing left.   
Warm tears are making their way down Jun’s cheeks, but he is doing nothing to remove them, letting them roll as he utters no sound, as he stares at the now deep black-blue sky, wishing he had been someone else. Wishing he had not given up his song, however dull it ever was. Maybe someone could have heard, in the end.  
It becomes a cage when the glass doors slide close behind him, when he makes his way down the fakely lit corridors, where the silence is deafening, where there are no songs to remind him of anything. Though there is nothing left outside for him, here it feels wrong, twisted, pointless, he thinks, while part of him tries to scream not to give up and give in, to remember how to live, to sing. But the screams are quiet, soundless, when he never really learned, his teachings too short.  
And then time stops.  
Closes in and freezes momentarily, and he is bound in the moment, in the frame he has just stepped into. As if crossing the moving glass, the colours grow in strength, the tape and the obscuring screen which set all into grey, vanishing, like a veil before his eyes. And he finds himself in his realm, somewhere he forgot existed, in his haze and in his selfishness and forgetfulness, lost in sorrow and pointless chords. He returns to that place where he for once felt he belonged, where he could float with no restraints, by emotions and impulses, where he had a voice.  
And all brought along by a Raven. A harbinger from a dimension of his own, the sphere he creates by will, moulds to his content, which draws them all to him, inevitably drawing common birds to dark places, places where a new beginning will never come. Where there is only darkness, calm.  
Jun’s body moves by itself, he does not remember taking the steps, his eyes are drawn, captured, and his body follows. He finds he cannot speak, a big lump forming in his throat, blocking anything which he ever could have thought of saying.  
It is getting increasingly harder to see, but alas, he knows who it is he is standing before, who it is waiting by his door, waiting for his return. He recognizes the posture, his smell, his warmth. It is like coming home, albeit unsteady and swaying, it is the only home Jun has ever known.  
And something breaks in him, he can hear the shattering, can feel the splinters as they pierce his insides, his fragile heart, when the raven speaks,  
“I was wrong.”  
And his dark wings draw him in and envelop him in warmth, and Jun can finally throw off his slough, forget the colourful mask and shatter right here, with him, with the void personified.   
  
*  
  
Sho is planting kisses in his hair, to his temples, his cheeks, continuously pressing his warm lips all over Jun’s face, softening him, bringing him back. And his arms are around Jun, pulling him so tightly against him, Jun can easily bury his face completely in the crook of his neck, in his shoulder while he tries not to crumble away completely, not to fall apart now that he has finally come home, finally returned again. When Jun needed him most.  
It is almost breaking his heart all over again. There is no hate, no regret and no anger in Jun at all, only relief and happiness and love he wishes he could show to this man. Jun does not know how to thank him.  
He was so scared of admitting it, but like this, muffled, with his face hidden in Sho’s warmth, he can say it, so he tells him. Tells how he wants Sho by his side always. Not just for dinner, to welcome the night, not just for the night, but also come morning, afternoon, every new day as the sun sets and rises continuously. He tells him how it is the only thing he has ever truly wanted, how much it broke him when Sho turned his back to him.  
A suspicious, choked sound is by his ear before Sho plants a kiss on his neck, just below his ear,  
“I am so sorry,”  
Jun has never heard Sho’s voice so faint, so weak, so _exhausted,_ and spent.  
“Never again. Never leave. Please.”  
“Never.”  
“Stay.”  
“I will stay, Jun.”  
Jun still feels numb, unable to comprehend whether this is a dream, whether he really did wake up in the hospital and is not dead. He wants to make sure, he wants to feel, and he needs answers. But the right things do not always come in the right order, and Jun’s impulses are at present more dominant than his common sense. So as his hands soar upwards, and he grabs Sho’s face in his hands, brings him in for a bruising kiss, two kisses, kisses him all over his face, he tells himself that maybe it would be okay. If this really was the end of everything.  
But then Sho wraps his arms around him, cheeks rounding as he smiles. And he is so warm, he is so familiar, so _real_ , finally as bare as Jun when Jun cups his cheeks, strokes away the hidden tear by the corner of his eye. This man could be a killer, a murderer, death incarnated, but to Jun, he will always be a lifeline, a saviour. The beginning of Jun, rather than the end.  
  
Though not wanting to, Jun somehow ends up moving, Sho’s hands at his shoulders gently pushing him back, back, not away, guiding him to go to his apartment door, unlock it, open it for them to go in. His arm is keeping it open as he turns his head to look at Sho to make sure he comes with him.  
Jun feels a clenching in his chest, a nervous contraction, can feel how his eyes are big when he looks at the other man. _Will you walk in with me? Will you be by my side?  
_ An unreadable expression flickers across Sho’s face, and for just a second he looks hurt, regretful, his eyes heavy with sorrow. And it dawns on Jun, it is staring him right in his face, that though Sho came back to him, he is still carrying a great weight. A weight of something still unknown to Jun. It did not go away with him leaving.  
Was that how Sho was wrong?  
Sho walks past him, and it is reassuring when Jun can see him back in his genkan, back in his home, in his proximity.  
Jun closes the door behind them, letting the silence linger and fall around them, giving Sho the time he needs to figure out how to formulate his words. Jun can practically feel the anxiety in heavy waves around Sho, see it in his posture, in the way his hands shake as he takes off his shoes, places them on the rack. He does not move to take off his jacket. And on Jun’s skin, his hairs are rising, in anticipation and fear. Sho looks like someone who is ready to bolt out the door any minute. Despite what he just told Jun.  
With the enclosed space the genkan seems to be, in the sharp light from the overhead lamp, the only light turned on in the darkening apartment, Jun feels held down. The sun has now set completely, turning the living room, and the kitchen darker and darker as the minutes tick by.  
Like this, it almost seems as if there is nothing more to this place than the space in which Jun and Sho are standing. There is only light around Sho’s body, the rest is invisible, unknown, thrown into blackness.  
Just after Jun swallows, allows himself to take a step towards Sho, eyes continuously flickering over Sho’s cast down eyes, searching for anything to give the man’s thoughts away, his emotions, his intentions, Sho breaks the silence, his voice firm, though monotone,  
“I need to tell you something. Something important. And,” Sho hesitates, “I want you to decide afterwards whether you still want me anywhere near you.” _Because I am not sure you would want me to._  
It is in the air between them, the insecurity, and this is the first time Jun has found the two of them like this. Sho has always been his secure holding, steady, calm, but he is now realising that Sho cannot always be exactly that. Sho is not exactly that.  
“Jun,” Sho raises his eyes, and the shiver which runs through Jun is involuntary, surprising him when his eyes meet Sho’s, “I am not who you think I am. Not at all.”  
He knew that. He guessed that. So he just nods, silent, though his teeth are sinking into his bottom lip.  
Sho’s chest rises and falls as he inhales deeply, considering his next words, and with the way his gaze is unsteady on Jun, there is no doubt in the actor’s heart that this is more serious than he could have ever imagined. What has Sho done for him to beat himself so much about it? What is the reason for that heavy guilt around his heart?  
Then the man sighs, “How do I even explain this… I am, I am-,” then he stops, casts his eyes down again.  
And then the most incredible thing happens.  
His whole body seems to suddenly glow, very briefly, before the quiet light seems to be sucked in again, casting a shadow over his frame, over his face, covering his skin.  
And then comes the cold. An icy breeze just blowing gently past Jun, framing his cheeks, swirling towards Sho, the other man taking a step back, a second, a third. Away from Jun.  
Jun instantly opens his mouth to call after him, raises his arm just slightly, to reach out, but then seems to rip back his hand as if burned when there is a sound of fabric being ripped apart, followed by a blowing noise, a deep, deep blackness spreading fast from the man opposite him, coming from _within_ him, filling the room, the entire space around them, between them. Even the dim darkness itself in Jun’s apartment seems to be swallowed up in a colour heavier than black. Jun has never seen such a darkness, such a colour of oblivion. As he is staring at it, unable to tear his eyes away, that obsidian seems to take shape, to grow heavy, alive. _Is it moving?  
_ Jun’s mouth is completely dry. The sight seems so unreal, to be something from one of his nightmares, a darkness which leaves him screaming soundlessly into the night. Jun realises he has raised his hand to his mouth when a slight gasp escapes him, and he can feel the puff of breath on his palm.  
That enormous presence is alive, a darkness moving as it breathes, and it stretches and Jun takes a step back. Startled.  
“Wings…”  
He realises he has whispered his thoughts, a strangled sound.  
And then Sho’s head snaps up again, suddenly, his eyes piercing. There is a thump when Jun’s heel hits the door, his palm pressing against the wood, his heart beating way too fast, way too loudly, so hard he suspects he is having another heart attack.  
He cannot recognize Sho. Those lovely brown eyes, those calm orbs of chocolate are _shining_. The gaze locked on him is gleaming silver, luminous, spreading in that terrifying darkness around Sho’s frame, breaking the tight sphere of blackness, so light that Jun can see no pupils. Those blinding eyes are so strong, so hard, Jun feels as if this creature in front of him is staring straight through him, boring eyes seeking out his soul, searching, grasping, caging. His breathing is becoming frantic as he witnesses the transformation. He wants to weep.  
Is this his Sho…? Where is his Sho?  
His breathing is now coming out in short, desperate gasps, he is trying to calm himself, to just stand and watch. There is no way this transformation would hurt Jun, would it? Would Sho come back to Jun just to harm him, to scare him, to haunt him?  
Those silver spheres are staring straight at him from within the darkness, piercing, hurting, sharp and hard and dangerous, and Jun crumbles under the weight of Sho’s stare. He covers his eyes, forces them shut,  
“No!”  
The word is desperate, fragile, expressing the fear in Jun’s heart.  
“I can’t. I can’t…”  
“Jun.”  
His voice is different, darker, foreboding, scary. Everything about him is different. This is not Sho!  
“No. Who are you? What are you? Please tell me. Please.”  
He is now covering in the farthest corner away from Sho, in his fear and his guilt about being terrified. He should not be terrified of Sho.  
When Sho sighs, the sorrowful sound seems to come from everywhere, to fill Jun’s ears, echoing into his soul,  
“If you would just see. You would know. I think-”  
“I can’t.”  
“-I think you’ve known for a while.”  
Still covering his eyes with his hands, Jun takes a couple of deep breaths, able to do so now that he is not seeing what he does not want to see.  
“I do not want to believe.”  
Sho’s chuckle is sad, melancholic, and Jun startles, recognizes that sound, the sound from over the phone. The sadness, the simple sound laced with so much pain.  
“I am sorry,” Sho breathes next, and Jun can almost imagine it is human Sho who is speaking, “I am sorry for wanting you.”  
And Jun remembers, the words said so many times. Sho apologized from the very beginning, didn’t he? Apologized and warned and implied. He tried to tell Jun from the beginning.  
Another humourless chuckle, “I never imagined this would happen. I could not imagine a human would be able to affect me so much.”  
 A human. It all makes sense now.  
“How? How can you be here then? How can I see you? How can I feel you, and speak to you? How can you be right here in front of me?!”  
Sho’s eyes has changed colour again, that is the first thing Jun notices when he turns to him again, kicks away his cowardice. Has he done that for Jun? The illusion cast again. And his cheeks are red, raw, as if market by tears. There is a bang of guilt to Jun’s heart. Who is the real villain here?  
“Are you really asking Death that question?”  
No. He does not need to really.  
Death.  
Sho is Death.  
His Death.  
“But how..?” he croaks out again, his body facing Sho’s way, now that those horrible eyes are no longer suppressing him.  
“How can I be here? I guess there are no rules applied to the reaper. A blessing and a curse,” Jun is confused, and thus Sho explains, “Had I not been able to create an artificial body, I would never have been able to talk to you. To touch you. To-” Sho’s breath hitches when he hesitates. Jun can feel how he too holds his breath,  
“To love you.”  
Jun cries so much these days, he feels as if he should be empty, but for Sho, he would forever save a few tears. And he lets those flow now, biting his lips to keep quiet. This was not fair. What did this mean?  
“So you’ve- You’ve come for me now? Will I die now?”  
There is regret in Sho’s eyes, so much regret, “Not now. But soon. I am so sorry.”  
He surprises himself by shaking his head, raising a hand to brush his bangs out of his wet eyes, sniffing unattractively,  
“You should not be sorry for something you do not control,” he tells Sho sternly, “I am only angry that you left me. As I understand it, you cannot affect _when_ I die, right? So why?”  
This seems to startle Sho, and he blinks.  
Now that Jun finally dares look at him, he tentatively lets his eyes glide over Sho’s frame; his pale face, his exposed neck. Nothing is different about his proportions now, his white V-neck, his faded jeans the same, but he seems leaner somehow, his presence towering, predatory, and behind him, filling the entire living room are a set of enormous black wings, bigger and darker than anything Jun has ever imagined on any creature from his dreams, his visions. But this is no angel, is it? Sho is something else entirely. But he is still very far from how Jun imagined Death to look like.  
No fangs, no claws, no blood-red eyes, no slimy hands.  
Sho looks like Sho, now that Jun inspects him properly. He looks warm. He still looks like home. Still so very gorgeous to Jun. Maybe… Maybe even more so now.  
So Jun takes a step forward as Sho seems to suddenly hunch a bit, Jun’s hand twitching in nervousness. He steps towards the darkness, that enticing darkness embodied, visual, real. Silence seems to stretch while time stands still and Jun finds the answer in the lack of light in Sho’s eyes, his lips a thin line, firm, determined.  
It is easier than it would seem, to walk through the sphere of darkness,  
“I was frightened.”  
To think that anything could ever scare the reaper. It is absurd. Death is not supposed to fear anything. But with every step Jun takes towards this mysterious creature, this incarnation of a concept, the impersonation of the unknown, of the after, he feels himself returning, the warmth in his heart, the affection for Sho, for… Whatever he is.  
Does it really matter?  
With what Sho is telling him, there is nothing for Jun to fear. Jun has told Nino this, has he not? He does not fear death. And he will thus not fear Sho.  
Jun is certain now. Now that they have both found their way back.  
He places a hand on Sho’s cheek, finds it warm, despite the shiver running down his spine at the chill, and Sho looks up at him, shades of embarrassment colouring his cheeks. This is a new Sho, but Jun can still recognize old Sho in him, the Sho he fell in love with. There are parts of him in this magnificent creature of death,  
“I understand,” Jun whispers, moving forward, breathes against Sho’s face, against Sho’s lips, “So was I. But not anymore. It does not matter to me what your previous purpose was. Your reasons. What matters to me is that you are here with me now. If you stay… I will not be afraid to die, Sho. You can have all of me.”  
Sho’s eyes widen,  
“I will not fight it.”  
Following the movement of Sho’s throat, under his skin when he swallows, Jun moves even closer,  
“But I am dead, Jun. I died more than 500 years ago.”  
Who is Sho trying to convince now?  
Jun stops mid-move, lips hovering very close to Sho’s, and raises his eyes from that tempting mouth to Sho’s eyes. Sho’s lovely brown eyes, feeling how they reassure him, calm him,  
“You are here now, aren’t you? This,” he places a hand in the middle of Sho’s chest, waits in vain for a heartbeat, “Isn’t this solid? Is this not a warm body like my own? Is this not real?”  
Sho breathes slowly, holds onto Jun’s eyes with his own, studies Jun’s face, “Only half-real,” he tells Jun.  
But Jun only smiles softly, “It is real enough for me.”  
This close, Jun can reach out towards the tempting colour of Sho’s wings, those marvellous limbs which Jun could never have imagined would fit into Sho’s body. He can feel how Sho’s eyes are on him while he moves his hand closer with uncertainty, closer, bringing just a finger into contact with the – surprisingly – warm skin. If he could ever imagine how it would feel like to have a dragon’s wings under his palm, how that scaly sensation is comforting, smooth, hot, then that would perfectly describe Death’s wings. Like a snake’s pitch-black skin.  
Sho’s sigh is right by his ear, when Jun leans in, unconsciously closing his eyes as his fingers spread out to caress the soft scales, not the least bit wet or slimy, but very warm and very soft and so smooth.  
And Jun suddenly gasps, imagining how the bodypart would feel against his skin, how it would feel enveloping him, gliding over his back, encircling him and pulling him close to Sho. Whether it would feel good. Whether that is possible.  
He does not flinch when there is a husky voice by his ear,  
“What are you thinking of, Jun?”  
They seem to have crossed a line, a wall, broken through a barrier which needed to be passed. For them to return, to go to the next level, to take the next step.  
Thus, Jun welcomes it when Sho’s teeth come down on his earlobe, enjoys it when Sho kisses the helix before he tongues the inside of Jun’s ear, and Jun does not even try to hold back a moan at the sensation, waves of pleasure settling between his thighs when Sho continues to lick and coat his ear with saliva, the wet sound so loud. Jun is surprised at how hot he finds it, and is thankful when there are two palms settling at the small of his back, offering him support.  
He continues to stroke Sho’s left wing with one hand, the other sneaking around Sho’s neck, pulling him closer as Sho starts nibbling his way down Jun’s neck, lingering at the hollow between his neck and shoulder to suck hard, knowing with certainty how it will make Jun mewl. The same happens this time, and Jun cranes his neck to the side slightly in surrender, offering Sho better access.  
“You still want me.” Sho’s quiet voice is full of wonder, of curiosity, of awe and delight.  
Jun hums back, his throat vibrating at the sound, and then he turns his head back, to open his eyes to Sho, to shortly look him in the eye, before Jun can finally kiss him.  
And it truly feels like coming home. And discovering something new.  
Something different, but something better. Something rawer, purer. Realer.


	11. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**  
The possible difficulty for Sho to move around with his huge wings results in the two of them staying in the genkan for the time being, and when Sho lifts Jun up, his wings are instantly there to support his back, holding him easily, and not even a wall is necessary as Jun wraps his legs around Sho’s waist. Surprisingly, the movement of the insanely big body-part of Sho’s is much quicker, more flexible, than Jun could have imagined with the mere mass of them. They wrap themselves firmly around him, and he moans filthily when they slide lithely against his ass, his jeans long lost along the way with the rest of his clothes, the sensation indescribable.  
Sho tilts his head curiously to the side, breaking their kiss, and Jun opens his eyes just to see the mischievous smirk on the other man’s face before there is a strange sensation around his buttocks, searching before grazing his exposed hole, the underside of his balls, and he throws his head back at the very alien pleasure, his toes curling, a loud, choked moan escaping him,  
“Sho-”  
And Sho uses the opportunity to bite along his neck, down to his collarbones, his erection rubbing against the soft inside of Jun’s thigh. Jun can feel how he clenches at the feeling, more than ready, more than wanting.  
No longer afraid, he is mesmerized, drunk on the thought of belonging to this person, this creature, this… Whatever he is does not matter.  
Sho’s skin is hot against his, his lips scalding, leaving wet traces as far as they can reach, when Sho cranes his neck to touch that tempting mouth to Jun’s chest. He plants kisses on his way to Jun’s left nipple, and teasingly sucks around the stiffening nub, ignoring it on purpose. In retaliation, Jun digs his nails momentarily into Sho’s shoulder blades, feels them move under his ministrations, takes pleasure in the way Sho’s muscles tighten at the pricks of pain. When Sho finally licks Jun’s nipple, presses the middle of his tongue to the bud, drags it over the sensitive flesh, Jun tightens his legs around Sho’s middle, draws their middle parts together, closer, making their erections press against each other.  
“Jun.” Sho hisses, wetly dragging his mouth back up, mouthing along Jun’s long neck before reaching his mouth again.  
Where Jun catches it for a messy kiss, tongue pushing its way into Sho’s mouth, and Jun’s moans are lost there, mere breaths against Sho’s full lips.  
It is getting increasingly darker around them, as Sho’s wings close in, wrap them in their own little space, their own world, blocking out whatever is out there, blocking out the light. Shadows are cast over Sho’s face, obscuring the light in his dark eyes, and Jun breaks the kiss to stare, to look, to follow how Sho’s face in engulfed in darkness, how the huge wings leave only a small hole for the light to peer through above, before it closes completely, and Jun gasps at the complete blackness.  
He can feel Sho’s heavy breathing on his face, can smell him, his cologne, his musky smell, the smell of arousal, of want, and he feels trapped in the moment. Where Sho takes away his sight and has him completely caught in a cage of blindness, of enhanced senses. A place where he feels intimidated, threatened, but intrigued and safe. Because it is Sho. And there is nothing to be afraid of.  
“What do you feel?”  
Sho’s voice is a breath, a sigh, less than a whisper, and Jun catches is so easily, the rumble of it making him sigh, mouthing the side of Sho’s mouth hotly.  
With the handicap of no sight, he notices how he is shaking in anticipation, in lust, impatience. His moan is only for him and Sho to hear in the space they share, when a slick coldness starts probing around his entrance, feeling, prodding, before making its way in, and Jun feels his whole body tightening up, hands unsteady at Sho’s back before he raises one of them to Sho’s nape. He pulls him down for a kiss, but opts for biting Sho’s bottom lip, tugs it, tongue teasingly grazing over its fullness, when he sucks it into his mouth.  
Above him, Sho growls deeply, and then Jun’s breath hitches when the second digit slides into his hole and starts circling him, coating his insides with lube, stretching him, preparing him for what he craves so badly.  
“You are the only one,” Sho tells him when Jun’s teeth reluctantly lets his lip free, “This is a first for me.”  
Jun tries ignoring the incredible pleasure he feels with Sho’s fingers in his ass, stills for a moment to listen to Sho’s breathing, unable to see his expression when he tells Jun, realising that Sho is referring to this, to sex, in Sho’s truer form.  
“Let me feel you for real, guide me,” Sho whispers then, burying his face in Jun’s neck.  
And then the darkness is suddenly tighter around Jun, very tight, so tight he can feel the folds and shapes of the scales all over him, cradling all of him.  
He gasps in surprise when he feels Sho move. It is still dark, but they are moving out of the genkan, moving into broader space, through a door, Jun can hear it when Sho’s wings move against the small opening, a soft slithering, and despite how tightly he is pressed against Sho’s body, how small they seem cradled in the wings, his heart is beating fast. He feels curious, intrigued. He wants this. Wants to tread and explore the unknown, the darkness now moving around him, filling his ears, his sights, the space in which he exists.  
He is alive, can feel it in every cell of his body, when Sho drops him gently on the bed, and some light is finally allowed in again as Death’s wings open.  
The light comes from the windows, embracing Sho’s face in a bluish, dim light, and Jun is instantly caught by the look in his eyes, so dark, so intense.  
His arms are still circling Sho’s neck when the other man straightens up, arms supporting his weight on the bed. He is looking down at Jun, a soft smile slowly making its way onto his face, looking alien, different on his otherwise strong, handsome face.  
To think Death could ever smile.  
“I want you to tell me how it all makes you feel, what feels good.”  
Behind him, those incomprehensible limps are stretching out, unfolding in Jun’s room, and Jun knows the muscles in them must be so strong, how Sho’s back must be under insane pressure by the sheer weight of them. Jun wonders why they are so big, so powerful, so black, so heavy.  
His analysis is interrupted when Sho bends down to kiss him again, moving an arm to grab a firm hold of Jun’s knee, bending it upwards to open Jun for him again.  
As Sho’s strong hand slides down the inside of Jun’s thigh, achingly slowly, the actor hums in content, the sound increasing in volume and turning into a soft moan when Sho demandingly inserts three fingers at the same time now, burning Jun’s insides.  
Sho is intent on stretching him apart leisurely, making him feel the demanding dragging of his fingers when he crooks them, pressing firmly just _there_ , against Jun’s prostate, making Jun see stars and moan again, and again and again.  
With the feeling of Sho’s cock poking against his leg, the anticipation builds in Jun; he imagines how it feels to have Sho inside him again, impatient as he wraps one leg around Sho, at his hips, digging his heel into the small of Sho’s back, pulling him closer.  
Sho’s chuckle is a dark rumble in his throat, a vibration against Jun’s lips, mid-kiss, before his mouth becomes harder, his tongue forcing its way further back into Jun’s mouth so he has to fight to keep it at bay, from sneaking down his throat.  
Jun’s body is burning hot, drawn tight like an elastic band, and despite his efforts to keep his eyes open, to see everything, to see how those wings stretch and slither, how this fascinating creature moves during the act, it is getting harder with every shiver Sho makes ripple over Jun’s skin. He soon starts panting, back arching, hips moving in rhythm with Sho’s fingers, and then he hears his own impatient whine in his ears. Sho’s mouth leaves his abused lips, and Jun opens his eyes to meet Sho’s, so he can see the sparkle in them, the affection, the want, and Sho grins,  
“My impatient little human,”  
Jun reaches up to grab a firm hold of tousled Sho’s hair, taking him down to him again, the pull aggressive, so he can plant a hard kiss against the side of Sho’s raw mouth and lean up to whisper hotly in his ear,  
“I want it, Sho. Please. Don’t let me wait.”  
He can feel the smile against his neck, just before Sho abruptly pulls his fingers out, gripping onto Jun’s thigh hard, fingers digging into his flesh like a claw. And the pricking pain sends a pang down to Jun’s cock, a new dollop of precome appearing at the tip, smearing over Jun’s stomach, and Jun gasps at the wave.  
Equally harshly, Sho pulls Jun towards him, lube from his fingers wetting the sides of Jun’s thigh, his length aligning and teasing at Jun’s tight entrance.  
Jun realises he is holding his breath, until there is a brutal hand by his jaw, tilting his head so he can look straight into Sho’s eyes, see all of his intents there, just before Sho pulls his hips back, only to thrust them forward again, his thick cock forcing its way into Jun, halfway, in one thrust.  
Jun jerks, wants to pull his head back, but Sho’s vicelike grip on his jawbone makes it impossible. His eyes are held onto by Sho’s dilated pupils and Jun’s mouth falls open in a loud moan.  
Sho is making it impossible for him to even try to keep quiet, and he keeps holding onto Jun as he draws out slightly, to force his way in again, harder, stretching Jun, his movements so unyielding that Jun’s body shakes at every thrust, every push, and he clenches around Sho, so hard he can feel every inch of Sho’s cock when he pulls out, pushes in.  
While Sho is insistent on holding onto Jun’s eyes, the actor can also follow exactly how Sho clenches his jaw, how he growls quietly every time he drives in, every time Jun’s hole tightens around him, and Jun finds him so fascinating, so intoxicating. He has never made love to Jun like this before, following every contraction, every expression on Jun’s face, and Jun is utterly enthralled.  
It does not take long before Jun starts arching his back from the bed, bending and pressing his whole body up against Sho, rubbing against him, moving his hips forward every time Sho thrusts in, meeting him midway.  
It is driving Sho deeper and deeper, while Jun demands more of what Sho is giving him, Sho choosing to pull Jun closer by the leg, his fingers sneaking further upwards, settling just beneath Jun’s buttocks, before slowing down.  
Jun is just about to whine, to complain and demand he moves faster, but when Sho thrusts next time, it is harder, so hard, so deep that Jun gasps in surprise, arms shooting out to seek support at Sho’s back, and he buries his nail in Sho’s flesh, raking them over Sho’s shoulder blades as Sho _forces_ his dick hard, so hard into Jun, the headboard makes complaining noises behind them.  
And under Jun’s fingertips, he can feel how Sho’s firm muscles tighten, can feel the dragging of bones, and his fingertips experimentally pokes at the roots of Sho’s wings, where they grow from within his back, the discovery new, intimidating while each thrust Sho makes causes the set of wings to tighten momentarily as well.   
Despite Jun’s desperate attempt to control his breathing, it hitches every time Sho’s cock hits the spot, perfectly with just enough pressure, almost, bordering too much, and he starts getting dizzy, unable to explore Sho when all of his senses are already overwhelmed.  
Behind Sho, his wings stiffen again and again, every time his cock slides home. In the back of his mind, Jun hopes Sho will let Jun touch his wings as much as he wants, afterwards, afterwards…  
Thrust, thrust, _thrust_.  
Jun jerks to throw his head back with a loud whine, is again unable to, and hears himself almost sob, the long, strong fingers harsh and unyielding by his mouth. And now he looks pleadingly at Sho, lips trembling,  
“Sho.” he husks out, voice breaking and caught in his throat just as Sho rams in, so hard Jun feels himself stumble so close to the edge, so close to completion his vision darkens for a second,  
“Sho, I will- I am-” It is impossible to say anything as Sho moves closer, kissing Jun forcefully, rendering him silent.  
Jun feels so full, so tight, stretched thin by the constant pull and push, successfully pulling him apart, and it is perfect, utterly perfect, the filthy slow, smacking sound of flesh coming together filling his ears colliding with the slick, sticky feeling between his legs.  
Just when he thinks he will fall, just as his orgasm hits, Sho pulls his leg slightly upwards, changing the angle and letting Jun’s jaw go, so the actor can pull Sho’s chest against his and bite his shoulder, hard, as hard as Sho’s cock rams into him.  
And then he comes, wail muffled against Sho’s shoulder. Jun trembles all over, the force of his orgasm hitting violently, and he feels how he spills between them in hot spurts.  
Sho swears, and speeds up, thrusts faster, faster through Jun’s orgasm, to feel and exploit, and husks a garbled version of Jun’s name just before he comes too, buried deep in Jun.  
In his post-orgasmic haze, Jun finds wits enough to grab a handful of Sho’s dark locks to pull his face far enough away to see his eyes properly as he comes, as the rough groan of pleasure runs over his lips. And Jun is not surprised to see them become incredibly light, like stars turning on at night, silver as they illuminate the room. Jun’s heart swells this time.  
Though terrifying, scorching, Sho’s eyes are beautiful, beautiful in their threat, in their warning, and Jun sighs just by the sight of it as Sho fills him.  
The dark wings stretch out wide, to their full extent, cover the windows, crowding the walls, so the only light is coming from the burning orbs that are Sho’s eyes, before the wings seem to shrink in, getting pulled back into Sho’s body.  
Sho collapses on top of Jun, trying with his aching muscles to do it gently, but Jun welcomes his warmth, embraces him and nuzzles his nose into the crook of Sho’s neck, a content sigh between them.  
Sho is panting against his ear, his back sticky with sweat, and Jun reckons he is equally hot and wet, perhaps even more spent and gross than Sho, covered in everything.  
But right now, it does not matter, while they both bask in the afterglow.  
Both of Jun’s hands slide down Sho’s back, and he blinks in surprise, opens his mouth to ask, but Sho interrupts him, when his warm chuckle is loud, so close to Jun’s ear,  
“You are incredible,” he praises, before unexpectedly sliding down, his weight shifting away from Jun so he can lie next to him.  
Jun can feel Sho’s eyes on his face, so he turns his head, is met with Sho shining, shining so much, his face almost splitting while he beams at Jun. And Jun is sure he has never seen such a happy expression on his face before, it reaches out and touches his heart, clutches it.  
“You are so incredible,” Sho repeats and reaches out to Jun, caresses his neck, his upper arm, “Exceptional.”  
By reflex, Jun lifts a hand to take Sho’s, to twine his fingers in between Sho’s, to have their palms meet. He smiles back at Sho, albeit exhausted and spent, chest moving up and down fast. He feels so warm,  
“So are you.”  
The smile Sho gives him then is sad, but thankful.  
Jun only gets to see it very shortly, before Sho closes his eyes to lean forward and kiss him gently, lips catching Jun’s and only holding onto them for a short while.  
A few moments after, Sho fetches a warm, damp towel and water to dry Jun off. Even goes as far as to put on new sheets. All the while, resting his head in his hand, elbow on the mattress, Jun is following him with loving eyes, attention never leaving him for a second. The glow to Sho’s skin is curious, quite different to anything Jun has ever seen; it is slightly dark, as if a sheen of smoke is covering all of Sho’s naked body. Jun finds it fits him so well, it is so appropriate, he almost wishes Sho would drop the screen from his brown eyes and show their real colour. But only _almost_ , because admittedly, he likes the warmth in the darker colour as opposed to the chill in the piercing, silver orbs, eating up both iris and pupil.  
Words are not needed in the silence between them while their bodies hum in content, their eyes meeting often for affectionate gazes.  
When Sho finally snuggles down next to Jun again, under clean, freshly smelling sheets, Jun wiggles close, allows Sho to wraps his arms around him, draw him close.  
And Jun finds that he prefers Sho’s smell to any washing powder. He hopes the pillows will take on Sho’s smell fast.  
“Tell me one thing,” he requests once they are comfortable, Sho’s fingers scooting softly over his upper arm, eyes tracing Jun’s face, almost as if memorizing all Jun’s features.  
“Hm?”  
“What role does Ohno-san play in all of this?” Sho tilts his head slightly on the pillow, but otherwise his face remains perfectly calm, which reassures Jun, “How do you know him? And how… How does he know?”  
Sho does not hesitate, “Remember when you and Ninomiya-san visited him in the hospital?”  
Just that clarifies it for Jun. He remembers. He knows.  
“I met you then.” he confirms and Sho nods, licking his lips, “Because I am dying?”  
“Because I was watching you even then. I am watching every day Jun. Every hour.”  
The admission makes Jun’s throat dry.  
Surely, at first, Sho did not hold such affections for him as he does now.  
Jun has been dying for so long, so for how many days, how many months, _years_ , has Death’s looming presence been around him? Floating, a sneaking cloud of dread and despair?  
The thought makes Jun feel cold, so he closes his eyes hard, buries his head in Sho’s chest, just to feel a warm hand on his head, a soothing caress, Sho’s fingers twining through his soft, dark hair,  
“I am sorry. If it is of any help, I have never kept such a close eye on a human before. Never.”  
“I should sue you for stalking.” Jun mumbles against Sho’s skin, trying and failing at hiding his smile.  
“Oh no, please, Matsumoto-kun, do not. It would be so bad for my image.”  
Now Jun cannot help but laugh and he dares submerge again, beaming at Sho, when their eyes meet.  
Sho moves his hand from Jun’s hair to stroke his cheek,  
“My boss might fire me. Oh no wait, I do not have a boss. I _am_ the boss.” His eyes narrow while a crooked smirk suits the mischief in his voice. Then he moves in to kiss Jun, tilting his head to nip at Jun’s lips.  
Jun answers the kiss, but does not indulge Sho at first, not until Sho very boldly opens his mouth and slides his tongue wetly across Jun’s lips, tempts him, shows him the extent of the pleasure he could give him, if he would _just open wide for me_.  
“Jun, let me in,” he pulls away only a centimetre to croak, voice sultry with newly emerged fervour.  
And just Sho’s voice, his expression, their proximity is enough to make Jun feel conquered, and he groans quietly, mouth parting just slightly, but Sho strikes at once, his tongue slithering into Jun’s mouth. Only making Jun moan again, this time into Sho’s hot, demanding kiss.  
Afterwards, when they settle down in silence, bodies sore and buzzing, just when Jun feels on the verge of falling asleep, the quiet, soothing breathing of Sho beside him a lullaby, Sho breaks the silence,  
“Hey? You hungry? Let me order some takeout for us.”  
Jun chuckles.  
“What?”  
“Death just suggested ordering takeout.”  
“Shut up.” And Sho pushes him playfully, before leaving him to grin to himself.  
Really, when he does not think too much about it, it honestly does not feel different at all. Neither strange nor weird in any way.  
Jun believes this is how it feels when it is _just right_.  
  
*  
  
Undoubtedly, Jun is not afraid of dying. But dying turns out to be more painful than he imagined it would be. Though not physically painful.  
As long as Jun takes the pills provided by the doctor, the burning in his chest mostly dulls down and his body relaxes so much that his coughing fits seize.  
Jun is not afraid of dying, but during those moments when he is reminded of the fact, when he has to take medicines against the pain and his stressed body, Sho is there to watch him. And Jun can see in his eyes how much it hurts him. Despite wanting to do something for Sho, to take that sorrowful expression away from his face, Jun knows that that is impossible. That this is something none of them can control.  
Sho stays with Jun for a following number of days, which Jun is very thankful for. Not only because of the pleasure his presence brings to Jun, but also his help, since the discovered condition of Jun’s heart is still so new that he sometimes forgets his condition, forgets that he is on medication.  
Thus, leaving the pills out of reach when a seizure takes hold of him, and he needs them.  
Sho is there faster than he can blink, jumping out of his arms, up from where he is lying or sitting, to run after whatever Jun needs. To never leave Jun to suffer unnecessarily.  
And while Jun is thankful, he knows how it all affects Sho so much. Can feel it in the way he holds Jun tightly, the way he kisses his hair, the way he wraps his arms around him at night. Sho takes the nightmares away, but he cannot take away Jun’s agony.  
It is during one of those days, while his breathing is close to being normal again, that Sho asks him,  
“Is there anything, you want to do? Anything I can help you accomplish before…?” he trails off, but Jun does not need to hear the rest of the words.  
With Sho’s warmth behind him, around him, his arms over Jun’s shoulders while he is nestled between Sho’s legs, Jun feels so safe, “Not anything special, really,” he plays with Sho’s fingers, humming quietly as he considers it, really considers, “I want to finish my drama filming. And I want to talk with Nino before I leave. There are things he deserves to know.”  
Sho is quiet after that, but his left hand keeps playing with strands of Jun’s messy hair, and he does not resist when Jun twines their fingers together,  
“I understand.” He finally agrees then, surprising Jun with a kiss to his nape, “Just don’t… Don’t tell him everything. Some things are better kept hidden.”  
“I know. You will still only be my boyfriend.”  
The words do feel sort of strange on his tongue though. New. But as Sho does not seem to mind, Jun lets it echo in his mind, and he thinks for just this short amount of time, for the present, it should be ok to address Sho as such.  
  
*  
  
The evening before the dinner with Ninomiya and Ohno, Jun feels Sho gently grabbing his elbow while he is putting the clean cutlery back in their respective kitchen drawers. When he turns, he finds Sho wearing a serene expression,  
“If you are telling Ninomiya everything – with a few exceptions – there is something I need to reveal to you too. One last thing.”  
If not for the meaningful look in Sho’s eyes, Jun would have questioned him right now.  
Jun thought there were no more secrets, nothing else hidden between them, but as it seems there is, Jun is also sure that nothing can possibly surprise him. Not anymore.  
So when Sho tells him he has invited someone too, one person, he accepts with no further inquiries. Except for asking Sho to buy more wine, Jun wants to make sure there is enough.  
  
*  
  
It is 6 pm., in Jun’s apartment, and he is peeling scallops and shrimps as if his life depends on it. Naturally, his fingers are sore and itchy from an hour of work with the shellfish, but it does not bother him as he with concentration marring his forehead, pushes on, reciting again and again in his head what the steps of the dish are, what to do with the mussels, when to add the white wine, when to time the risotto with the newly baked bread, with the salad.  
At some point, his chest starts hurting, but he does not have time for that, he waits and stretches it and keeps working, until he starts gasping, his legs wobbling, threatening to give way under him.  
Quietly, discreetly, an arm wraps around his waist and fingers lead one of his hands to let go of a shrimp, pry it open gently and place a couple of pills in his palm. Then the guiding hand drops again, only to slide a glass of water over the counter, into Jun’s periphery.  
Jun obediently swallows the pills, drinks the water, and stands completely still, closes his eyes until his head stops spinning, until he can hear his heart slow down. When he opens his eyes again and takes a deep breath, that is when the supporting arm around him lets him go too, to let him get back to work, to be independent.  
Sho withdraws soundlessly, but Jun can feel his presence behind him, imagining how he sips his wine in silence, while he with eagle eyes watches over Jun.  
  
*  
  
Despite Sho’s proclamation, his warning the previous day, Jun never imagined it would be his manager showing up in the doorway, late by 15 minutes, wearing an apologetic smile and holding a bottle of whiskey,  
“Hello MatsuJun! I um, I am late. Sorry! I brought this flask of whiskey. It is 50 years old! I think I got it from my grandpa some time back… I don’t quite remember.” He scratches the top of his head, messing up his already messy hair, “I am not sure where he got it from either…” Aiba turns it to look at the label, “But it seems to be Japanese, so I am sure it is not poisonous!”  
Had it not been for his ridiculously goofy smile, his failing attempt to impress Jun and his overall eagerness, Jun would have been worried. It is, after all, his manager standing in his doorway.  
His manager is Sho’s secret.  
But as he gestures for Aiba to step in, and the tall man stumbles over his own feet, he feels himself relaxing. Whatever it is Sho and Aiba has in store for him, he will probably easily accept it. Clearly, Aiba could never be someone as dangerous as Sho.  
Whatever secret his manager had kept hidden from Jun, there is no denying that Aiba saved Jun’s career and had an influence on his growth.  
So Jun is absolutely certain he cannot be half bad.  
Ninomiya and Ohno actually managed to arrive on time, and credit possibly goes entirely to Ninomiya. Ohno still looks as sleepy as when he came, his ass heavy and lazy in Jun’s white couch as he leans on the armrest, not even standing up to greet Aiba who skips into the living room, only turning with a goofy half-smile.  
From his position in the genkan, hanging Aiba’s light jacket on the racks, Jun watches as his manager greets Ninomiya and Ohno as if they are old friends, instantly using casual speech with Nino, and if Jun had the time, he would probably enjoy watching their relationship grow. They would definitely get along.  
Sho joins them, bowing his head only very slightly towards Aiba whose forehead almost touches the ground as he greets Sho.  
For just a moment, Jun allows himself not to consider what that meant, and just enjoys how all the people he cares about are gathered, assembled in his home. Home. Not just his apartment, but his _home_. And he has never felt warmer. Never happier.  
When Sho turns, face instantly lighting up in a smile, Jun realises he is mirroring Jun’s expression. Perhaps the relief in that expression is evidence of Jun seeming to take it well. Sho’s eyes remain on him when he steps in to join the others, instantly moving in to wrap an arm around Jun’s waist, his body heat near Jun solid and comforting.  
“Tell me what you would all like to drink? I have plenty of beer and white wine in the fridge. And Aiba-san seems to have brought whiskey,” Aiba lifts the bottle again to show it to everyone, proudly presenting it as if on cue.  
“Let’s have everything, Jun-pon! Oh-chan gets so funny when he is drunk.”  
“I want no puke on my furniture, Nino.”  
“No worries. We won’t puke. But are tear stains allowed?”  
At this, Ohno’s cheeks grow slightly red and he hits Nino’s shoulder with an embarrassed giggle.  
Jun thinks that is definitely an interesting story they all need to hear, possibly after a few glasses of Aiba’s whiskey.  
“Let me bring you all a beer then,” He turns to head for the kitchen, throwing a glance at the stove where the pan is ready for him and his risotto, another glance at the oven containing the bread.  
There is movement by his elbow, and he turns to catch Sho moving past him to the fridge,  
“I’ll make sure your guests get their booze,” he explains with a smirk, pulling out a sixpack of Kirin, “You just concentrate on your cooking.”  
As he smiles, Jun finds his cheeks heating up. He truly appreciates Sho’s help, though he is being particularly sweet today.  
“Thank you Sho,” Jun says, lightly grabbing on to Sho’s sleeve to tug him near enough for Jun to give him a brief kiss.  
“Yeap.” Sho mumbles in return, leaving the kitchen with a proud expression.  
And as Jun gets to work with heating the pan and applying oil, he listens to the voices from the living room, can hear Nino’s distinctive laugh and Sho’s deep voice.  
The living room and the kitchen are only separated by one wall in front of the kitchen counters and the stove, shielding the other room from most of the smells from the kitchen. But at Jun’s side, there is no wall and no door, so he can easily hear the talk of his friends, despite him standing in another room. Something he learns to really appreciate now.  
Being able to listen in while still keeping his own pace as he cooks; the design enables him to do this, and Jun would never have imagined he would come to like his apartment this much. He briefly closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, just takes in the image, the feeling and imprints it onto his memory. Sometime in the future, he will look back and remember and appreciate this moment. He hopes, more than anything else, that his memories will remain, his feelings for those people in his living room, wherever it is he is going afterwards. He desperately wants to hold onto those small things.  
Things which mean the world to him.  
When he opens his eyes again, he adds the rice, stirring them occasionally while the four men start talking about Aiba’s hobbies.  
From what Jun can hear, Nino and Aiba share a love for baseball. Surprisingly, considering how much Nino hates exercise.  
Sho laughs loudly when Aiba suggests forming a team with the five of them.  
At one point, when the broth is slowly being boiled down, Jun reaches for the bottle of wine in the fridge and pours himself a glass. He has always preferred wine to beer anyway, though he always keeps a decent stock of both, since Sho loves beer. Often, Jun suspects Sho only drinks those expensive wines with Jun because he wants to indulge him. Another thing, which Jun appreciates about Sho.  
Ohno comes shuffling into the kitchen, wiggling his empty can of beer to demonstrate his reason for joining Jun in his lair.  
Jun gestures with his wooden spatula, “There are plenty in the fridge, go ahead.”  
Behind him, he can hear how the fridge opens and closes, but Ohno does not leave the kitchen immediately, and Jun turns to find him standing beside him, running his hand over the marble counter, seemingly in thought. Jun lets him stroke the white stone for a while, wondering whether Ohno will tell him what is on his mind by himself. In the end, Jun asks,  
“Is something the matter?”  
“Hn?” Ohno turns his head, and Jun catches how his bottom lip is jutting out slightly. It makes Jun smile, “Oh, yeah, it is just, hm..”  
Jun never got the impression that the other man was good at expressing his thoughts, so he decides to ask Nino’s boyfriend about something else,  
“How are the fish biting, these days?”  
Not that he has a particular interest in Ohno’s fishing, if he is being honest, but he hopes it will be a good icebreaker.  
“Hm.” Okay, maybe not, “How are you and Sho-kun?”  
The question comes as a surprise, and Jun nearly drops his whole store of saffron into the risotto, catching himself in time. Of all people, he probably did not expect for Ohno to ask that question. But then again, Ohno knows about Sho. And he is most likely not – like Nino – referring to Jun and Sho’s sex-life.  
“I accepted it,” Jun finds himself saying then, stating it as simply as he can, keeping his eyes on the food as he continues to stir it, the golden colour of the spice spreading on the pan, “What he is, and what – whatever weird thing it is – we have. With the time I have left, I decided there was no reason for me not to just throw thoughts and speculations to the wind, and enjoy what I have. With him.”  
When Jun glances at the other man, he finds Ohno listening attentively, eyes never leaving Jun’s face, and he briefly dwells on the discovery that Ohno is an excellent listener, no trace of judgement to find in his kind, brown eyes.  
Jun turns off the stove and moves the big pan to the counter, to be able to turn fully towards Ohno,  
“I realise I love him. No matter what he is, it will not change what I feel. And… I cannot see what should be wrong about that. It is honestly very simple. We make each other happy, and that is all that matters.”  
It is the first time Jun has said this. Stated his opinion about the whole affair, clarified in simple words what is on his mind. It underlines it for him, making the burden of the thoughts less heavy, and makes him realise that it is not wrong for him to think these things.  
He has never been more certain than now.  
And Ohno does not question his resolve either, does not contradict him. He just wears a secretive smile, and Jun finds he almost looks a little smug.  
“Well then.” Jun resolutely grabs for his cooking glove, efficiently ending the topic and moving on, “Can you help me with this?”  
Ohno steps in without a second thought.  
  
Together, they bring the food to the table, and Sho prepares the wine Jun has picked out and cooled in the fridge.  
A Riesling, especially good for this kind of risotto, and despite Sho’s preference for beer, he knows how to open up a bottle of wine and be the one to pour for all the guests.  
Jun knows that he, himself, will most likely be the only one able to appreciate the wine as it should be, but despite of that fact, he wants it to be right. He wants food and wine to accompany one another and fit. He is like that, and there is no way he would serve beer along with his risotto. Absolutely not. Would ruin both the food and the beer.  
So despite Nino’s raised eyebrow across the table when Sho coolly pours for him, Jun does not back down. It does not matter anyway. Nino probably rarely gets wine, and there is always that slight hope in Jun that his friend will come to appreciate good food and good wine, instead of just seeing it all as a means to survive.  
When Sho leans over Jun’s shoulder lastly to fill his glass, Jun gives him a beaming smile, “Thank you.”  
The warmth is mirrored in Sho’s following gaze, as he throws him a sideways glance and a crooked smile. They all start after Sho sits down opposite from Jun.  
With Sho across from him, Jun can follow all the details, all the small contractions of Sho’s face when he takes the first mouthful of Jun’s dish, can see his honest opinion before he has even said it, and he selfishly lets the happiness fill his entire body when Sho sighs blissfully and sags in his chair.  
Usually, Sho is blunt and does not shy away from expressing how delicious he finds it in a loud voice, but this time, he just looks at Jun through heavy-lidded eyes and mouths: “So good,” in a whisper that Jun cannot help the blush as a reaction to. Not until then does he allow himself to eat, satisfied with the outcome once he is chewing.  
A few moments later, he hears a quiet approval from Ohno from the end of the table as well and turns to find him nibbling at the warm bread, eyes studying the piece as if it is a curious wonder.  
Jun chuckles. Which makes Nino turn his head to him,  
“He likes bread a lot,” he explains with an impish grin, “Told me he wanted a bakery in Hokkaido when he was a child. Luckily, that did not happen. Could you imagine me in a bakery serving bread and cakes? Because I cannot. So troublesome.”  
They laugh and Ohno’s face turns red, his eyes slimmer as he chuckles.  
“And the guy doesn’t even know how to bake.” Nino continues.  
“Hey!”  
“But he has got a refined bread-taste. Though he’d probably proclaim most breads delicious anyway.”  
Ohno receives an encouraging pat on the shoulder from the airhead at his side, “Don’t worry Oh-san, I wanted to be a company president when I was younger.”  
“A company president?” Nino snorts, “Where?”  
“Nowhere in particular, I just wanted to be president. With a moustache.” Aiba is smiling widely, almost proud of his ridiculous childhood dream.  
Sho is guffawing from where he is sitting.  
“And look where it got me, nowhere near that position!”  
At this, Sho claps his hands in laughter, and Jun knows that half the table only catches half the joke.  
Jun tells them how both he and Ninomiya wanted to be famous baseball players, and Aiba almost flies out of his chair in enthusiasm then, exclaiming how it’s a sign, and how they should all totally start a baseball team.  
Nino bursts his bubble by saying that Ohno will probably fall asleep while throwing the ball, and Jun makes Aiba’s face fall even more when he tells him Sho sucks at that sort of thing.  
“Oi! I can throw a ball well enough,”  
“No, you can’t.” Jun talks back, laughing profoundly at Sho’s pouting face.  
They can laugh at it, because they know there are so many other things that Sho excels at, and despite his lack of ball-control, he is far from out of shape.  
They all agree on seconds, and Jun shows Ohno how much better the warm bread is with butter, making the other man look like he is close to crying tears of joy. Nino throws a warning that here it comes, earning him a light smack to the shoulder.  
In general, the mood is very good around the table, and with the continuous drinking of delicious wine, Jun soon finds himself in a comfortable bubble, slightly hazy around the edges, but with a chest close to bursting in joy.  
Aiba has become slightly giggly with the alcohol, and Nino’s face is red when Jun rises to take care of their plates. Ohno looks like a content old grandpa stuck in his chair, so Sho is the one to jump up and help Jun clear the table, his deep, breathy chuckle in Jun’s ear when he briefly moves to support his elbow,  
“Had too much, Matsumoto?”  
At this, Jun scoffs and jabs his elbow slightly into Sho’s side, “No way old man, I can handle it,”  
But he does find it all stupidly funny and giggles when he has to concentrate on walking straight to the kitchen. And Sho’s warm breath by the side of his neck did make him feel strangely hot in his face, profusely weaker in the knees.  
Which is also why it is no trouble at all for Sho to make a move on him in the kitchen, when Jun turns for a second trip to the table and he finds Sho standing in his way, blocking his path,  
“Hey…” he whines pathetically, half-heartedly, and thus Sho can easily wrap his arms around Jun’s waist and pull him close.  
Jun grunts weakly once Sho brings him in for a wet kiss, lips demanding on Jun’s for as long as Sho wants. Jun could have melted right then and there, totally forgetting the other guests in his living room, only aware of Sho’s enticing presence, his strong arms, his intoxicating smell.  
When Sho breaks away, it is only to chuckle darkly against his skin,  
“You’ve had too much wine, MatsuJun.”  
“Ugnn, no.” Jun complains, but delights in the way it makes Sho laugh.  
Jun leans heavily against Sho’s chest, bordering slumping, arms secured around his neck, and with his eyes he tries to hold Sho in place, pleading for him to continue. He juts his lips out slightly, asking. Which makes Sho laugh again,  
“You’ve totally had too much, you.”  
“Kiss me.”  
Jun is very well aware of his childish tone, but it works because with a grumble, Sho kisses him again,  
“Charmer,”  
When Sho’s tongue moves into his mouth, Jun loses the rest of his ability to think straight, and he tilts his head invitingly, moaning slightly against Sho’s increasingly rougher lips, deepening the kiss.  
It feels too good… And Jun is falling.  
“So this is where the party is.”  
A familiar snarky voice makes a jolt run through Jun, and he instantly wants to break away from Sho, the mere thought of the spectacle Nino is bearing witness to now, enough to make him want to hide his surely reddening face.  
But Sho refuses to let go.  
Jun can feel how his fingers tighten around the fabric of Jun’s shirt, how he only presses his lips harder against Jun’s.  
There are teeth nibbling at his bottom-lip, a tongue sliding against his own. It is somehow both thrilling and amusing how Sho is so clearly provoking Nino, showing how he does not give five flying shits that someone should see them together. Jun’s hands return to the back of Sho’s head.  
“Ok! Ok! I get it. Just… Hurry up and finish what you are doing and bring us some beer,” a shuffling noise, “Oh and some glasses, Aiba-shi is opening the whiskey…”  
Bold hands move down to Jun’s behind, fingers closing around the roundness of his ass, making Jun gasp into Sho’s mouth,  
“Jesus Christ, get a room already. Or close the non-existent door. Damnit, Jun. Had I ever known it would be like this when you found yourself a guy-”  
“You are still here.” With an impatient sigh against Jun’s lips, Sho reluctantly puts a few millimetres of distance to Jun to growl at Nino, voice low, and the eyes he is keeping firmly on Jun are dark, heated.  
They flicker back down to Jun’s mouth, as soon as Ninomiya leaves with another curse,  
“I will murder you in your sleep Sakurai.”  
 And Sho licks his lips, only to whisper to no-one in particular, “I would like to see you try.”  
“That is one way to get rid of him.” Jun hears the slight reprimand in his own voice.  
“He’s nosy.”  
“You don’t like him?”  
“I like you better.”  
Jun being Jun, he is charmed. He laughs, “That won’t do, we cannot stay here!”  
“We can.”  
And then Sho kisses him and that’s that.  
They are greeted with a huge eyeroll from a certain small man when they return, glasses and bowls of fruit in their arms.  
Conversely to Jun’s friend, Aiba jumps up instantly to help Jun with his burden, to relieve him of some of the glasses, “Yosh yosh, let us taste my grandpa’s whiskey, yay~ Who wants sooome?”  
  
As expected, Nino ends up being the sentimental person after his third glass of whiskey. He is leaning onto Jun’s shoulder like a sag of potatoes, throwing stinky breath into Jun’s face while he blabbers on about being _so_ happy for Jun. Saying that despite that image in the kitchen – which by the way will be burned onto his memory for eternity – he really appreciates Sho for how he makes Jun look so stupidly – _underlining stupid_ – happy. Amongst his descriptive words of Jun’s red face, his disgusting smile and Nino’s wondering of whether he can see at all when his eyes turn so small when he grins, he actually throws in that the thing he is most thankful to Sho for, is his unyielding presence by Jun’s side right now.  
“He is really strong, that guy, Jun. For staying with you. You better stay for a long time, or he will be lonely.”  
It is all said in Ninomiya’s very drunken state, but there is no doubt that he means every single word. Perhaps it is just way easier for him to voice it out now. All his thoughts.  
Jun puts an arm around his shoulders, lets him rest his head on Jun’s arm before Jun smiles sadly.  
If only Nino knew how bad it was. But he does not need to.  
Jun wants him to remember Jun like this at least. Not as someone sad and pathetic, but as someone who is in love, someone who is happy, someone who enjoys life. What is left of it.  
And so, when he squeezes his friend’s shoulder, and Nino mumbles something incoherently, he leaves it at that. There is no reason for him to tell Ninomiya the whole story about him, about Sho.  
Leaving it like this, Jun decides, is really the best for Nino.  
  
Over the course of the evening, the kitchen becomes some kind of sacred place where thoughts are shared and secrets revealed.  
After having said goodbye to Nino and Ohno in the door – both supporting and half-carrying one another for different reasons, Sho comes in, an empty glass his excuse, while Jun is putting away just the worst of the mess in the kitchen.  
“Jun, I want to tell you about Aiba.”  
Said person is snoring on the sofa, limps sprawled in every other direction, the blanket thrown dismissively on the floor, after Jun took pity on him, allowing him to stay the night. After Sho’s reluctant agreement.  
Upon realising they are having that particular talk now, Jun dries his hands in a towel before turning to Sho, fidgeting with the cloth, a way for him to avoid looking annoyed or tense in any way.  
The alcohol has evaporated slightly from his mind, so he is sober enough to understand the importance of the truth for Sho. Sho really wants to tell him this, and Jun wants to know.  
“He is my… Co-worker, so to speak. Same business as me.” Sho tries to explain and Jun just cannot help but grin.  
“You mean your employee right? Underling?”  
Jun is not stupid, he saw how Aiba acted around Sho, eyes flittering to him often, movements cautious, and how Sho treated Aiba; eyes calculating, words serious and curt.  
The serious, still air cracks and Sho snorts, before raising his eyes to meet Jun’s.  
“Yeah, you could say that,” Jun is more than happy to know that he is the one causing Sho to smile like this, albeit a bit awkwardly. He wants Sho to be relaxed about telling him these kinds of things.  
Then Sho clears his throat, “He’s been keeping an eye on you for me, when I couldn’t,”  
Sho is clearly unsure about how Jun will react to this. Jun probably surprises him again when he with nonchalance just comments,  
“I hope he did not keep an eye on me when I showered.”  
“No don’t worry. Only I was watching that.” Sho’s pupils dilate slightly.  
“Hey!” Jun gently swats Sho with the towel, hitting his thigh and effectively chasing him away a few steps, but the other man laughs, dropping his previously crossed arms, “I am very close to seriously suing you for stalking, Sho-san. You are trespassing on my privacy,”  
There is only play and no bite in Jun’s words, since, despite being embarrassed at the thought of Sho checking him out while he is naked, it is – after all – Sho, and Jun does not mind if it is him.  
Only _because_ it is him, Jun finds that it is more than ok.  
When he is at a safe distance from Jun and his weapon, Sho straightens up again, smile slimming down, but remaining on his face,  
“Thank you.”  
Jun perks up, blinks a few times.  
“Thank you for taking it all so well. For accepting everything. For accepting me.”  
His eyes portray so much Jun has learned how to see, and so much he still cannot quite pinpoint. Jun probably does not have the time to learn all the crooks and crannies, all the corners of Sho’s mind. But he sees the overall picture, what is mostly necessary for him to understand, and he just has to accept that as being enough.  
Dropping the towel on the kitchen counter, he steps closer to Sho, eyes gentle, heart hammering,  
“You did the same for me. I bet you know even more about me than I do myself, and you kept watching over me, kept caring. That means everything to me.”  
Sho takes a hold of one of his hands, eyes locked with Jun’s as he raises it to his mouth, placing a brief kiss in the middle of Jun’s palm.  
Then, his fingers soft and gently twining with Jun’s, he moves his gaze over the tips of Jun’s fingers, studying the skin before he brings them to his lips too. He kisses each finger, aiming for the small cuts made by the shells of the seafood.  
It stings, but even so, Jun finds himself closing his eyes, focusing on the mixed sensation of a slight burn and the soft gentle sensation of Sho’s lips against his raw skin.  
The silence closes in, only broken by his own soft breathing, the slight noise when Sho’s mouth meets Jun’s fingers.  
All too soon Sho stops, but then his presence moves closer to Jun, and Jun feels how his mouth now closes over Jun’s lips, holding him, steadying him gently.


	12. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**  
  
“What will happen to all the other people who know you? Will they remember you?”  
“Their memories of me will be erased as soon as I leave with you.”  
“And the Best Actor award?”  
Sho chuckles, making Jun smile from his place on the couch, covered in fresh, white blankets,  
“Someone named Sho will receive it. And that is all they will remember. Some guy named Sho who won’t even show up for the ceremony.”  
That is sad, Jun thinks, biting his lip. At least Jun will be remembered by the people who meant something to him. Nino will remember him. Ohno will. Kiko hopefully too. And the other people he has worked with during his career.  
There is a shuffling noise as Sho approaches him, and he sits down after placing a steaming cup of tea on the glass table in front of Jun, the materials making a clanking noise. The reaper pats the blanket slightly, tugs it in around Jun’s legs, before leaning back against the pillows,  
“Don’t worry about it Jun,” he says, voice breathy, “I don’t mind. At least I got to experience being an actor, being human. That is something I will remember forever. It is a very precious memory.”  
And Jun suspects Sho can see how those facts just makes Jun regret it all even more. The thought of Sho keeping those experiences only as memories, forever and forever. Along with the memories of their time together…  
Once again, he is reminded of how unfair the world is. The entire universe. Everything.  
Even Death is small, even Death does not hold the key, the power to do anything.  
Not trusting his voice, Jun just throws himself forward to wrap his arms around Sho’s neck, burying his face in his chest, to not show his agonized expression.  
“I am sorry.” Sho strokes his soft hair, his hair which has grown out so much he cannot spike it up anymore, “I bring you nothing but pain.”  
  
*  
  
Jun’s filming ends, and Sho takes him out for dinner at the Italian restaurant where they went during their first evening together.  
This time, they do not try to be discreet, they do not mind the stares as they share the famous tiramisu, flirting outrageously across the table.  
The following day, rumours of the two of them dating are all over the tabloids. None of them minds. Conversely, Jun feels rather proud of himself, feels rather proud that people now know that Sho belongs to him, and he belongs to Sho.  
Obviously, people did not expect him to hook up with a guy. Least of all Sakurai Sho.  
Sho leans over the back of his chair, sneaking a peak at the article he is reading, and he chuckles in Jun’s ear before giving it a teasing nip, “I can’t believe you read this stuff.”  
Jun laughs, goose bumps rising on his skin at the feeling of Sho’s lips, now against the side of his neck, marking random patterns along his nape.  
“You believe them?” he asks then, between kisses, “You think Jun is dating that mysterious Sho-guy? Personally, I find him rather creepy.”  
This time Jun moves his head away, stopping Sho’s molestations, but only to crane his neck and look at him, grin playing on his sharp features, as he once again allows himself to marvel at how attractive Death is, “Really? I think he’s rather hot actually.”  
A wicked smile lights up Sho’s face, “Really now?”  
And then he moves to taste Jun’s mouth too.  
  
*  
  
“Have you ever had someone else? Another lover?”  
Jun is well aware of the intimacy, the privacy the question holds, but it is not until he sees Sho’s expression that he understands how deep the words actually dig.  
“No. Never.”  
He wants to ask why, wants to soothe the deep, painful loneliness he recognizes on the other man’s face then. Scarily close to how he watched his own face in the mirror until Sho came into his life.  
But Sho beats him to it, when he turns his muddled gaze to meet Jun’s.  
There is a pang of pain in Jun’s chest, unrelated to his illness,  
“I never had the time.”  
  
*  
  
“Do you promise to remember me? At least one of us can hold onto our memories then.”  
“Of course. Always, Jun. Always.”

*  
  
On his last day, by the end of it all, there is no hospital. No doctors or nurses or tubes of various kinds in his body. There is only Sho holding him in his arms.  
He keeps his promise and stays by Jun’s side until the end.  
When Jun is so drugged he cannot stand, when the pain is completely numbed out, and he can only think. His body knocked out good.  
He more hears than feels how Sho is shaking, how his breathing is off, out of rhythm.  
“Please Sho, don’t be sad. I am not afraid to die.”  
The words do not seem to make a difference for Sho. If anything, he looks even sadder when Jun focuses on his face.  
“ _I_ am afraid of you dying, Jun. When your name appeared on that list of those whose souls are to be taken, I couldn’t wait to have you. Now… Now I regret ever laying eyes on you. You should live Jun, this is wrong. I hate that there is nothing I can do!”  
Jun’s heart is bleeding for him.  
All those perceptions of Death as a cruel, merciless being are all wrong. Death does not necessarily like his job.  
He manages to bite his lip, not feeling the digging sensation of his teeth that should have been there,  
“I do not regret my scheduled death.” He admits, voice as quiet as a whisper. And Sho’s eyes widen, “There is something you still haven’t understood.”  
And then he moves closer to Sho with difficulty, to bury his head in the crook of his neck, inhale his scent, imprint it all to memory, the memory which will no longer be, after that darkness swallows him whole, “Death taught me to live. _You_ taught me to live. And for that, I am eternally thankful. I regret nothing.”  
Jun can feel how Sho’s arms tighten around him, how Sho pulls him so close, his hold so firm, and he kisses Jun’s hair,  
“I will be eternally lonely without you. How can I ever go back to reap lives, to exist forever alone again, without you…?”  
Jun does not hold an answer, he does not know. Had their roles been reversed, Jun is not sure he would have been able to live with the memory of him having taken Sho’s life. Of being Sho’s end. But he cannot say that.  
In their unjust and unfair story, Jun is sure that he will be the one leaving it all with the lighter heart.  
There is a quiet ticking in Jun’s mind, a hole starting to open up in his chest, and after briefly wondering over the new feeling, he knows. Knows what it means.  
It is time.  
And then, right there, he is afraid. Utterly and gut-wrenchingly afraid. Despite all his brave words.  
Violently, suddenly, he turns, ready to reach out, to make a grab for Sho, desperation rising in his throat. No. No, it cannot be now.  
He needs more time.  
There is never enough time.  
His hands move through air, fingers closing around empty nothing.  
Sho has moved away, and Jun watches, eyes widening, while the tears well up and pour down so fast. Too fast.  
He watches as Sho clenches his jaw hard, the bone jutting out slightly, marking his skin, and gets up. There is nothing for Jun to do but to look on, in worry as the man before him rises to his full height, and suddenly seems a lot taller than his stature.  
It is happening, and before Jun’s eyes, Sho’s appearance changes completely. Ebony white moves over his skin, changes its colour, he folds out his huge black wings, swallowing the room, the light, everything, makes day night in Jun’s world, and after Sho blinks once, his eyes become that colour of silver, shining brightly and casting an eerie light over the room,  
“Jun…” he starts, his voice croaking.  
And he is no longer Sho.  
Jun hates those eyes. He hears himself sobbing, stopping the sound by biting his lips again. Hard. His heart throbs and he knows what is coming, what is happening now.  
Life is never fair.  
Then there are blood-red tears streaming down Sho’s white cheeks, a contrast so morbid, so full of the grief Death feels. Death is not supposed to cry, his body is not built for it. Yet he does, tearing himself apart.  
Sho takes a deep breath and gains control again, “I am the Angel of Death,” he says, the threat deep and frightening in his voice. He is completely different, a different creature when his eyes pierce Jun’s, the light blinding him, “And I’ve come to claim your life.”  
His voice booms like a drum through Jun’s being, filling his veins where blood was supposed to flow, and the darkness of Death is the last thing Jun sees. The last thing he feels.  
At least, Jun thinks, it is Sho.  
It always was Sho and always will be Sho.  
Then…  
  
  
  
Nothing.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

  
 …  
  
__**It is said that Life and Death have been in love for longer than we have words to describe. Life sends countless of gifts of love to Death. And Death will care for the souls which Life cherished so much, forever. With the love he bears for Life, Death creates and starts anew, and thus, the circle is complete.**  
   
_“M-Master?”_  
_“Go away.”_  
_“But Master…”_  
_Sakurai growls loudly and turns his head to stare threateningly at the demon who has appeared in the door,_  
_“I told you to go away! I do not want anyone to come here. You are all to take care of the dead for me. I do not care what you do to them now.”_  
_With the words, Sakurai’s non-existent heart hurts in his chest, and he raises a clawed hand to dig his nails into the skin at his chest, letting the blood colour his world devoid of anything._  
_There is already blood on the floor, blood on the walls, pieces of black fabric and shattered shards of crystal. And there is no longer room inside the reaper for any more emotions. Before, he was not supposed to have feelings at all._  
_“Please listen, Master.”_  
_Sakurai’s head snaps up again. The plea in the demon’s voice is so uncharacteristic, his subordinates would never beg. He raises his eyebrows, innocent confusion apparently taking the demon slightly off guard._  
_“I, um, Life sends his regards,”_  
_“Life?”_  
_“The Angel of Life.”_  
_Sakurai snarls in warning, “I know who Life is,” he grits out._  
_Though he has never met the guy, he has heard that he has recently been replaced. But why should that concern him?_  
_He is Death, he takes lives. Why would Life – the one to give life, to cherish souls, the one who is white, good – have anything to say to someone like Death?_  
_“I was asked to bring you a message, or I… um.”_  
_“Out with it!!” Sakurai is losing his patience, and rises from his chair, ready to fry this idiot if he does not spill the fucking beans soon._  
_“He said to tell you-” The demon fidgets, and Sho swears that his ugly, red face is getting even redder, in –  what? – embarrassment?_  
_There is a movement behind the demon, interrupting him, and Sakurai hears himself gasp, the scene in front of him taking place as if in slow motion._  
_An angel walks into the room, his light almost scorching the darkness of Sakurai’s chambers, filling it out, changing it, etching into the walls._  
_The demon cringes, blocks his eyes against his beauty, and even Death can feel the blackness subsiding._  
_His wings are of the purest white, his face stunningly ebony. But his hair is as dark as the day Sho saw it for the first time, his eyes curious, deep, brown._  
_Sakurai wants to say something, opens his mouth, but the name does not make it out, becomes a mere soundless mime._  
_Life grins widely, eyes shaped into half-moons, and Sho’s heart starts beating again._  
  
_“I love you.”_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One last, short chapter and that ends this year-long journey for me.  
> Thanks to those who stayed with this story for so long as well as my lovely beta who put up with me, I truly appreciate you guys (:  
> This is my baby, and now I need to figure out what to do without it. ^^,


End file.
